They say grief ebbs and flows and sneaks up on you unexpectedly, and lately I’ve been missing my mother a lot.

Today my phone showed me memories from this time last year. I was glad to see them, but they also made me cry.

It’s been, what, eight months? Close to a year. And I feel nothing close to okay. So much has happened. But even if I hadn’t, there’s a giant hole in my life. Everything feels wrong, like I’ve stumbled into an alternate universe. I don’t know when I’ll feel anchored or right again, but I’m certainly not there now.

Every day I want to tell her something, or ask her advice, or hear what she has to say. I often think that I will, until I remember. It’s awful. Selfishly, I still need her. And I just miss her presence.

She’s here, of course. Just not in the way I would like.

The only way is forwards. Unfortunately.