It’s been 1 year, 2 months and 16 days since Marilyn died. That’s 442 days or 10,608 hours or 636,480 minutes. I feel the weight of those minutes. I think about her every day. I miss her every day.

Here are some things I have realised in the last 442 days.

1) Grief doesn’t lighten over time; it deepens and becomes embedded in you. When my mum died, people told me ‘It gets easier…not better, but easier’ and I can agree in some ways. When she first died, I felt such immense sadness that I thought I could never smile or laugh again. I thought “This is it. This is life now, a permanent state of greyness and dullness”. I was in utter disbelief what had happened to her and my family. I wasn’t ready to lose her and there is nothing I could do to change what was happening. The feelings of helplessness and hopelessness were brutal. Yet, over a year later, I can laugh, smile, spend time with friends, meet new people and be excited for the future. The moments of disbelief and wondering ‘How did this happen to us?’ are fewer and fewer. I don’t spontaneously burst into tears as often, but I carry the heavy weight of sadness and loss on my shoulders. My grief accompanies me wherever I go. They say ‘Grief is love with nowhere to go’, so it becomes part of you.

2) Death is always sudden. Even though Marilyn had cancer, losing her hit me like a ton of bricks. It felt as sudden and unexpected as if she’d died in a car accident, even though I knew her prognosis was terminal. It was even more shocking because she was given 3-6 months to live, but suddenly died after two months due to unforeseen complications.

3) You grief for the future you should have had. The more time passes, the more things my mum misses out on. She didn’t get to meet my niece Alice, she wasn’t here to hug on Mother’s Day, her 40th wedding anniversary passed without her, she didn’t get to celebrate her 70th birthday with us, she’s been absent from every family meal, every phone call and every Whatsapp conversation. Going forward, she is going to miss out on some much. Every day, every week, every month, every year, every celebration. Every important life event and mundane matter, she won’t be there for it – and she should be.

4) There have been the unexpected gift of new friendships. Her death has built a connection between people who were once acquaintances and are now friends. Many of them have also lost a parent, and we can truly empathise with each other’s struggles. We can talk openly and honestly about our pain and loss. I am part of Instagram groups for people who have lost a parent or are grieving a loved one and that is something so comforting about seeing your emotions being described by someone else. Grief can be terribly lonely, but these communities and conversations remind me that I am not alone.

5) You don’t realise just how much someone means to you until they are gone. As the poet Ishpreet Bhogal says: “She was more than a mother. More than a wife and a sister. More than a friend. More than a support system. More than home. She was everything. She was ours”. Marilyn was my best friend and I miss her an indescribable amount. On 20th June 2021, we had a virtual memorial event for my mum. It was well-attended by over 60 people from around the world. It was so comforting and heart-warming to have so many friends reunited a year later to talk about her. We could only have 10 people at her funeral so it was great to host a larger event and be reminded that many people love her and miss her terribly.

By Isobel (her younger daughter)