Just another day...

Once again, someone told me tomorrow is just another day like any other day. I cannot describe how upsetting that is. How hurtful.

I am not them. I am me. I do not choose to make a drama out of the anniversary of my mum's passing. How can they tell me not to be sad? How can they tell me it's irrational or strange to commemorate? There are those who still mourn on the anniversary twenty years on. I'm not saying ill be like that, but this is the first year. Do I not have the right to be sad? The right not to go out and party on a Friday night? Do I not have a right to remember, to cry?

Grief is so personal, so very personal. 

I am doing it my way, feeling it my way, and no other way. It is not wrong. It is not irrational. It is not bizarre. 

She was my mother. My dead mother. 

I know what we went through together, what we experienced together, whether at the hospital or on the road traveling.

Nobody can tell me not to make a big deal out of things. No body has a right to. Nobody ever should lest they are unaffected and immune to death and loss.