The Vicky Bruce Dignity Room

I am sitting in the Vicky Bruce dignity room. The boys bought some wall decorations that they put up earlier this week. It is not perfectly positioned on the wall, but it was part of their healing process. I think it is beautiful.

Everybody has left, and I am alone here. The energy of the “living” have left the building. It is quiet and peaceful, and I can feel Vic’s presence.

Today I read a sad blog. It is a mother’s anguished cry about her grief for her 29-year-old daughter who died 33 weeks ago. Thirty three weeks says it all. She is still counting the days; the weeks dreading the heartache that she knows still lies ahead.

Compared to Dru I am a veteran at the grieving thing. Vic died 43 weeks ago. Ten weeks do not sound like a lot, but it is a lifetime in the life of a grieving mother. Dru’s pain is raw. So is mine I suppose. I think it has become such a part of my life that I cannot remember what it felt like to be happy and carefree.

I also read a heart wrenching blog written by a grieving father. John wrote the following “I ran into the room and Anita was holding Noah, lifeless, with no tubes or machines hooked to him. I cried out “No No No” as I rushed over to him and held onto him with all my life. We both cried for an eternity. I ran my hands through his hair and begged God for this not to be happening. ”

These words catapulted me back to the 18th of January 2013 when I clung to the lifeless body of my precious child. I still feel the heat of her fevered body against mine. I remember how beautiful her hair looked. I remember holding her and kissing her head.

Will the pain ever subside?

I don’t think so. Well-meaning friends and acquaintances tell me it will. But quite honestly they have never lost a child.

Tomorrow it will be 302 days since I held my child. 302 days of raw longing. 302 days without my beautiful Vic. 365 days ago I realised that Vic had started dying. Vic’s nausea was relentless. Her little body started shutting down. Her organs had started failing. Vic knew that day that she was dying. The Doctor put up an intravenous line to try to stop the nausea. Vic was fracturing vertebrae from vomiting….

My poor precious baby girl. Why did you have to suffer the way you did?

Would I turn back the clock? To have another five minutes with her I would. For one last hug, one last “I love you”, one last “You will always be in my heart” and one last “You made my life worth living…”

I love you baby girl.

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I am a sixty plenty wife, mother, sister, grandmother and friend. I started blogging as a coping mechanism during my beautiful daughter's final journey. Vic was desperately ill for 10 years after a botched back operation. Vic's Journey ended on 18 January 2013 at 10:35. She was the most courageous person in the world and has inspired thousands of people all over the world. Vic's two boys are monuments of her existence. She was an amazing mother, daughter, sister and friend. I will miss you today, tomorrow and forever my Angle Child.

13 thoughts on “The Vicky Bruce Dignity Room”

  1. Dearest Tersia, As you become a “grief veteran,” you are able to see your progress on this horrible journey. That progress will continue. I am not just another well meaning friend who hasn’t lost a child. My son’s death changed the course of my life. I continue to remind you what seems unbelievable – that the pain will eventually subside. You have terrible traumatic memories that haunts you. But I see you are floating now on an ocean of tears to another shore. You are no longer fighting the current, which is pulling you farther from the pain. You are never far from Vicky and your love for each other will sustain you. Love never dies. Hang on.


  2. The anguish you are feeling is torturous to say the least and it goes on I am afraid, the hours, days, months and years bring no relief it is anguish every day. We have a few coping mechanisms that work for a few hours or even a day but never a full day, our hearts always bleed with tears. the loss of a child is our hell on earth why we were chosen I will never know in this lifetime here on earth I can only hope when we see our beautiful daughters in heaven the reason won’t matter. My heart is with you my friend…I don’t always articulate well but know my heart feels and cares for you.
    By the way I think the boys decorated their moms room beautifully! God bless and keep you.


  3. Tersia, Vic will always be with you and will always love you as you love her. While she isn’t physically here her spirit and love will always surround you. Take care, Bill


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