Birthday cake

I miss my mum and getting angry over silly things like an added couple of pounds, a sweaty tube, a dirty kitchen or the fact that my trainers rub isn't going to solve anything. None of these frustrations will ever bring her back, why commit so much energy into them?

Cake is the trigger and I imagine my brother to wake next week on his birthday with no promise of a birthday cake that my mum would always organise. This is a subject far too painful I even avoid myself, since to buy the cake for him would be acceptance of her death. Though who is loosing out in the long run?

Me. 

I will have to accept. I will have to acknowledge that to be my brother's mum isn't a role for me either. We are all grown up now. You'd think that makes it easier, moving onto new adventures in social circuits and job advances. It only makes it harder as that person isn't there to explain it all to and for you to say at least you're proud of your achievements. An unconditional listen. 

So what can I do? Either sit in squalor and eat/drink into my feelings or come on top and open my eyes to see what's on my doorstop instead. I'd never forgive myself to linger in this current lull and for something worse to happen in the near future. That previous lull you were dying to escape from would suddenly turn into the ideal. Not I. I can't do it anymore. 

No more wishing back.