U2 vs Jane Austen

There's something in me that doesn't want to say that my mother died two days ago. I know that if I bare open my soul on here I'll get no response, or even worse, I'll get an email saying "nice blog. please visit my website and buy things". Sometimes it's nice that no one reads my blog (not that I can complain when I don't tell anyone about it), because then I don't have to worry that what I write may offend someone or whatever, but there are times when writing diary entries that are basically private just isn't good enough. I don't want to talk right now except to people that aren't actually around. I miss my friend Katie who is working in Australia over the summer, I miss her a lot, because I don't have to get all emotional talking to her, which I really don't feel right now. People, I think, expect me to be distraught but for some reason I'm not. It was a relief when Mum died. She had been really sick, not herself, for the last few days and that was horrible. But now I just feel weird, like part of me is saying "you horrible heartless person" and another part is saying "you're just at peace and that's fine. Enjoy it while it lasts." It's very strange. It may be just because I know that life doesn't just stop, I really know that my Mum is in heaven, but then there are times when I find it very hard to imagine that. Obviously, no ear has heard, no eye has seen, etc etc what God has in store for those who love him... so it's hard to accept that Mum has really gone from this earth and that her body no longer holds Her. I wasn't there when she died, which may have helped, but I don't regret it.

The funeral is tomorrow and I think I may feel differently during and after that.