I woke up on yesterday morning with my hair wet from my tears. It was Friday again. For the past 41 weeks I have woken with my heart shattered. I dread Fridays. It is not a conscious decision to wake up crying. I don’t go to bed thinking that “tomorrow it is X number of weeks…” It is as if my body has an automatic alarm that alerts my tear ducts, my heart, my being. When I open my eyes there is a voice screaming “It’s Friday. Week Number …”
It has been an eventful and strangely emotional week.
On Wednesday evening we attended my youngest grandson’s concert. Not only was he the best actor but he noticed his gran in the audience and waved back! I sat there and realised that my precious child would never attend another school concert; she would never attend her grandchildren’s’ concerts ever. I realised that I would more than likely never attend the UK girls’ school concerts ever.
The boys started writing exams. I know how stressed Vic would have been about these particular exams. Jared’s year mark will determine whether he can apply for university entrance for the year 2015. The poor child was off to a rough start in the beginning of the year.
On Friday a 37-year-old woman dropped dead in the shopping mall.
On Saturday a beautiful young woman who calls me her “back-up” mom and her precious daughter shared a birthday. Laughter and joy reverberated through their home. A beautiful “Monster High” cake baked by a wonderful mother… Something that Vic will never get to do again.
I have nightmares of Vic being ill and me not being able to get to her…Desperation and fears permeates my dreams. I wake up in blind fear.
Will my heart ever heal? I read that life takes on a “new normal”…I just want my old life back. I want my child back.
Vic's Final Journey 
Yes…
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(((Hugs)))
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Oh my, Tersia. I feel the ache in your heart and have silently read all of your words. I see what a wonderful support system you have in the blogging world. I don’t comment much because I’m not sure what to add. I know that although it is beautiful and comforting to have hugs and support from afar, it is pitifully inadequate to soothe the amputation of your soul.
It is impossible to build a new life, to concentrate on “normal” things – to even feel peaceful. You are writhing in agony and torture. No one can imagine. It is a solitary thing, this demon grief. Even other mothers, such as myself, cannot imagine the special bond you had with Vic. So much resulted from being her caregiver – of course, you have nightmares that she needs you!
What can I say? All I could do while grieving was “hang on.” Tersia, hanging on is about just breathing and also about not letting go. Hold on to the love – it will sustain you. Vicky hasn’t really left. She has been transformed inside of you and you will see it as time goes by.
You are in my heart and prayers. I wish I could make it easier for you. It is a minute to minute, second to second thing. Surviving grief was the hardest thing I have ever done in my life.
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I’m sorry this has been a particularly difficult week for you. I imagine you will feel each of these “Vic will never…” for some time. I hope for you to reach a time of peace and acceptance. I cannot imagine your pain, but I can feel it through your words. I hope you can feel my care through mine. ((hugs))
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My heart is crying with yours. My son passed on a Friday night. In the beginning and for almost 4 years, Fridays and the 6th of the month were terrible reminders of that fateful day and date but now, it is closer to 5 years and it is the month/date…the anniversary that I count. You will one day notice these things for yourself…on your time table…not mine or anyone else. I can only share my experience with a measure of hope that you will not always feel this intense on Fridays. Days will come and go and reminders like the boys’ school events and birthdays, etc….will always be painful yet not as intense. A dull ache over time will be the buffer of that wretched dagger like pain that steals your breath right now. Pain takes on a new feeling and is like waves that come and go….YOU are that lonely stretch of beach it attacks. I pray that your faith in God will be your guide and that you will find comfort in that fact that your child is well now. She is perfect in every way and needs her mother to take on the tasks that have yet to be finished. I pray for God’s strength and ever present love to surround you and your family. xo
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Thank you so much for your beautiful comment. I know that Vic is running around free from pain and the restrictions that her earthly body had. I just miss her so much!! Thank you so much for your kind and comforting words. I know that you have lived (and still live) your own hell. Fond regards. xxx
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I still feel sick when it hits me that Philip will never do something or share something or see something or whatever it is I’m experiencing and he isn’t; oh, Tersia, it’s so hard, it’s just so goddamn hard. I wish I could do something for you; you break my heart, you do.
xoxoxoxo
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I don’t understand anything anymore and feel quite lost but one thing I know for sure is that I love you, empathize as best I can and feel your pain – just wish I could support you better, dear Tersia!
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Julie you are such a good friend. I wish I could help and support you! You live uncertainty and pain every day. By doing what we are doing we are supporting one another… I love you too my friend.
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God, Tersia, I feel you so, so much whenever I come over here, I so much do.
I sincerely wish you warmth, strength, and as micey says (((Hugs))).
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