Hey all. I survived last week. I made sure little man had some idea, and then made sure his Dad and he were okay, and got on with it. That first morning I drove to work with no will or happiness at all. And of course, it was not as bad as I feared. But it was pretty bad. Grief, I’ve found, is a silent thing. I parked the car and sat in the darkness and wondered at life. Then I made myself get out, and go on, and just kept moving. His wonderful Dad left a voicemail message that reassured and comforted and it was okay. But this week is not easy. And I am still doing the Lotto.

I discovered this week the website www.archive.org. Turns out it can provide you with access to old websites. Some of you may remember the blog I had for years, www.wallpaper.blogs.ie, which simply got deleted without any warning, and with nothing recovered. So I went looking for it on this website.

The blog had become a real memory aide to me. I charted my mother’s illness, my wedding and everything else on it. And then, poof, it was gone. It used to get about 500 people per day reading it. Reading through the old posts that were captured by Archive was quite telling.

Firstly, I have it seems always been convinced of my idiocy. Utterly, without any real doubt, I’ve written myself off. Secondly, by christ sometimes I can write. There were turn of phrases there that were magnificent, almost masterly in their finesse. And I never saw it, or recongised it, I never gave myself the slightest credit for it.

But what stands out the most, as Alan Rickman said, is the pain, the sheer pain of it all. I watch myself walk towards loosing Mum with a shrill inflexibility that just gets worse and worse and the life that became a horror. I honestly don’t know how I did it, I still don’t. I would have said I am much too weak but it seems that I am not.

I’m 42 years old. It already feels like a long time.