How I found happiness in grief, words, and throwing punches
Grief does not arrive with a timetable. Mine arrived the day before I was due to start a new job, when my mum died at 65. I did what I suspect many women do. I carried on. I went back to work, answered emails and tried to be useful, while quietly falling apart. It took me rather longer than I care to admit to realise that keeping busy is not the same thing as coping.
