Mamgu (Welsh for Grandmother) died on the 20th of December. I still can't believe she's gone.
I am so very angry at the rest of the world for carrying on without her. I find it hard to understand that people can still be having fun now that she's gone. I want to write about her, but it's still too raw yet. I'm fine for ages and then a little thing makes me break down; a carved wooden lizard that she brought home from Australia, her face smiling from a frame, remembering a dress she had with buttons that looked like snail shells.
I miss her so much.