I have transcribed notes I took in the first three weeks after my mother died. The entries below are in reverse order - so it might make sense to scroll to the first entry of April 3rd and begin from there.
One thing I can attest to - you do whatever you can to get through it. Each second has a meaning and each second you are grasping for air. Each second is a wave of highs and lows. The first few days are horrific and I physically felt voided somehow, dreamlike, groundless, small, scared, shocked. And yes orphaned, as now both my parents were gone.
I can honestly say on day one I didn't know if I would ever feel real joy again, or make plans again, or get a new animal again, or do anything again that would have a hint of real exuberant joy in it again.
It has been almost two months since she died - I can tell you I do have joy, but not exuberance. But I will. And I have many plans. I am changed. This is a marking in my life.
I can tell you that I think of her all the time, that I miss her every day - and that there are still seconds where I forget, then remember, that she's gone. Those Aftershocks are less frequent, but they come in different levels of severity. For me, Monday mornings are the hardest as that was a time I almost always called and we'd chat for a long time. We spoke often, perhaps four times a week, more in rainy weather or the winter months. She was my my go-to person for anything. I still miss her intensely when I bring a cup of coffee out to my studio as I'd often call her for a break in the work day.
And after the shock, the quiet sack of sadness is right here at my side - it goes everywhere with me for the time being.
