It’s been two months since Mum passed, and I still don’t know how to feel. I’m struggling with finding my way through grief.
People say losing a parent is one of the biggest losses, but when you’ve been their caregiver, it’s something else entirely different. Mum was my whole life for the last 13 years.
Every day, every decision, every plan, every part of my routine revolved around her. And now, nothing. Just this empty space where my purpose used to be.
Keeping Busy to Avoid the Grief
At first, I thought I was doing okay. Numb, but managing. I did everything I could to keep busy and not think. The first two weeks were filled with admin—informing people, emailing healthcare teams, returning hospital equipment.
The house was emptied of all the big, obvious reminders: the hospital bed, her chair, the hoist, the supplies. I kept myself busy, doing everything quickly, because if I stopped, I’d have to face it.
Mum was buried almost within a day after she passed as per our faith. The funeral was a blur and overwhelming.
So many people coming to pay their respects. I was relieved not to have to host the wake, which lasted a week. Instead, I took a few days away, thinking the space would help. And for a little while, it did.
I even tried sharing on social media, posting thoughts and advice on “When Caring Ends”—hoping that putting my feelings into words might help. And maybe it did.
But once I was back at home, I tried to keep it up but then everything collapsed.
The Quiet That’s Too Loud
I stopped functioning. Stopped posting. Stopped talking. I couldn’t face people, couldn’t deal with the messages checking in.
The house felt too big and too empty all at once. I couldn’t sit in the living room—our space. I moved between my bedroom and the kitchen, avoiding it completely.
But there are reminders everywhere of mum, you can’t avoid it.
Her blood pressure chart is still pinned to the wall. Her pillbox, still filled with Tuesday’s medication, sits on the kitchen counter, I can’t bear to move it. Her chair is gone. Her bed is gone.
Her smell is gone. And I regret that. I don’t know why I cleaned everything and washed all her bedding & clothes so quickly. I should have kept something.
Even the cats have changed. We spent almost a month in hospital, and they barely saw me. And now, in my grief, I’ve been shutting them out, too. The guilt of that eats at me.
Finding Comfort at Mum’s Grave
The only place I feel any kind of peace is at Mum’s grave.
I go there to talk to her, to tell her how much she meant to me, to ask for forgiveness and to pray that she’s in place without pain and is loved.
I know I can do that at home, but it’s not the same. It’s the not seeing her that hurts the most. Being there, where I know her body is, makes me feel closer to her.
One morning, I went with a shovel to plant some flowers. God knows what anyone thought I was doing who walked past.
But the soil there was hard clay and so impossible for anything to grow. I dug around the edges, mixed in compost, and planted some flowers. I scattered wildflower seeds too—maybe too many, since half of them washed downhill when I watered them.
Now, I might have accidentally created a wildflower path. But she’s there. And she’s in Jannah (heaven), inshallah (god willing).
Letting Go of the Anger
I try to keep the anger in check, but it’s hard.
At night, my mind replays everything. The blame and what I could have done differently, blaming others and myself, whether I did enough.
I try so hard to let that go because every time I dwell on those thoughts, it feels like I’m denying Mum’s right to leave this world when it was her time. I know in my heart that nothing I could have done would have changed that, but my mind still fights me on it.
Ramadan has helped. I break my fast for her every night, say a prayer, and in that moment, I feel connected to her. It’s a small thing, but it grounds me.
And key family members call nearly every day, checking in, encouraging me to take small steps. I still put on a brave face, but sometimes, when I mention Mum, the tears slip out.
Even now, I haven’t fully let go. I haven’t really cried, not since that one moment at her funeral.
What Now?
The truth is, I don’t know who I am anymore. For so long, I was Mum’s caregiver. That was my whole identity. And now? I don’t know.
Looking back, I wish I had built something outside of caregiving, something that was mine.
If I could give one piece of advice to anyone, current caregivers, it would be this: hold onto something that gives you purpose outside of caregiving.
A job, a hobby, volunteering—find something that keeps you connected to yourself. Because when it ends, when the person you love is gone, you’ll need something to hold onto.
I need to start looking for a job. But with a 10-year gap in my employment history, where do I even begin? Who’s going to hire someone who’s been out of the workforce for that long?
And worse, I barely remember what I used to do. My CV is a broad overview, it doesn’t capture all my experiences or the examples I could use for applications or interview.
I have terrible long term memory, I forget details from my past, big chunks of my life that I don’t remember (I know that doesn’t bode well with dementia in the family!)
I just don’t know what I want—except that I still feel drawn to dementia care, to supporting others. But I don’t have the qualifications.
I thought about studying, maybe doing an MSc in dementia, but the idea of committing to years of education feels impossible right now.
Moving Forward, Slowly
I’m starting slowly by writing. This blog is the thing that helps me, so I’ve started blogging again and I’ll keep writing until I’ll figure out my next steps.
I was inspired by another dementia advocate reflecting on dementia care, and it made me want to record my own thoughts.
I’ve even considered starting a YouTube vlog about what comes next—but confidence is holding me back. But I love listening and watching her.
You can find Nicolle Mitchell’s blog here and her new youtube channel here where she shares “a series of video shorts… where Nicolle imparts her thoughts and wisdom to support people who live with dementia or those who assist people living with dementia.”
Definitely worth subscribing – it would be great to support to her as she shares some insightful thoughts from her professional and personal experiences. Do subscribe!
Maybe I’ll even build up the courage to start that YouTube channel and post the vlog I did reflecting on grief.
I’ve started job searching, even though it scares me. And eventually, I’ll move out of my bedroom and start making this house my own again.
It’s going to take time, finding my way through grief. I know that. But I know that I’ll get there.
And if you’re in this place too, if you’re grieving and lost—I hope you know that you’ll get there, too.
Take care of yourself and your loved one. Until next time.
