A Mother’s Grief – Page 9 – Vic's Final Journey

Mother and Child Reunion

It is Friday again.

There is another funeral to attend.

In an hour and a half I have to attend the funeral of my late BFF’s mom who passed away on Tuesday. My friends mom was like a back-up mom to me. She was a lady from the top of her dignified head to the tip of her carefully manicured toes. A gentle soul who had also buried a daughter. A lady who attended all my loved one’s funerals….

I got so carried away with Stepping Stone Hospice that I neglected to visit her as often as I wanted. A couple of times I arrived at her home, and she would be out. She spent the last 7 weeks in hospital, and when I walked into her room, all masked up, she teared up and said “Where have you been? I have missed you so much.”

So life passes us by. We become too busy to visit those we love… and then one day, far too soon, they are gone.

She did not fear death. In fact I think she embraced death in the end. I know that she is reunited with Marlene.

I wonder whether she will bump into Vic and my Dad?

I am so tired of being sad. I am so tired of pretending that I am okay – even happy. I truly wish that it was my funeral today. That I was the one reunited with her daughter…

They say there is a reason…

The Locket

I have a special locket that rest above my heart,
it holds your beautiful pictures while we must be apart.
It’s my hope that you’re still with me no matter come what may,
so I know that I can talk to you every single day.
When I walk into a storm you’re watching over there,
guiding me to sunny skies with tender loving care.
I’ll never have to be alone you’re always next to me,
you show me love in different ways the eyes could never see.
Your spirit fills my soul with love beyond any explanation,
with pride I’ll wear it every day in total admiration.
Of the woman who changed my life and patiently awaits,
arms wide open to welcome me when I reach heavens gates.
It’s never really good bye if in your heart you do believe,
a mothers love is endless, and never ever leaves.

Source: The Locket, Mourning Poem http://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/the-locket#ixzz2l0SJf7xl
#FamilyFriendPoems

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. http://forjuliaruth.com/2013/11/10/what-about-grief/

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. http://kerrichronicles.com/2013/11/12/the-miracle-of-his-short-presence/ 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 18^th 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. https://tersiaburger.com/2012/11/14/a-night-out-of-hell/. 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.

A mother’s loss…

“No one loses a child the way a mother loses one. We are the ones who first felt life, carried it and protected them, nourished them, sacrificed our bodies for them, held them first in our hearts, then first into our arms. We were not only connected through flesh, but on levels so deep, you really have nothing to compare it too metaphysically.

It is a love so raw, and so elemental that is just present – just there from the beginning. We have a link to our children that cannot be replicated. No one understands a grieving mother except for another grieving mother. No one else can begin to understand that void that surrounds us, shadows us, haunts us. Our children’s screams that we can no longer answer, their bodies we can no longer grab and embrace, their tears we can no longer dry, and their hurts that we can no longer make better. They then become our own unanswered screams, our bodies that become un-embraceable, our tears that can never be dried and our hurts that never stop. There are constant reminders of what we live without, and must live without until we die – sometimes it feels like it’s life’s cruel way of taunting us. The grieving mother is never whole again, never fully present, because a piece of her heart and soul leave her with her child’s last breath.”

https://www.facebook.com/WingsofHopeLivingForward

May God have mercy on us…

To God

“To God, I hope you look after Auntie Vicky. She is very sick. Love Chloe Alexa Burger” My precious 5 year old UK granddaughter wrote this…her mommy found it in her school satchel last week.

To God

Dear God, hear the words of a five-year old.

Stepping Stone Hospice

This week I truly realised that the Stepping Stone Hospice patients are “our” people. Our friends. They are not strangers. They are people we know from church, they are our neighbours, our friends; friends of friends… Our Hospice cares for our own. We are not “removed” from the community.

We however continually grieve.

Stepping Stone Hospice is just so different. We are not a group of detached, paid staff doing a job. This is a Hospice driven by the tears of its members. It understands the fear in the hearts of its dying and its survivors. We see our loved ones

We have lost our fear of death. We have not become immune to the tears of our community and friends. We truly live and experience “Ubuntu” every day.

A little old lady has shuffled into our offices with R150.00 ($15.00). She told us that when the interest rate went up she would be in a position to increase her monthly contribution to our “worthy cause”. How amazing would it be if everyone in our community contributed $15.00 a month?

I love spending time in our building. I feel close to Vic.

Our Hospice journey is a healing journey. We have been helped over the stepping stones…now it is our turn to take the hand of another and help them over the stepping stones. What an amazing privilege. All built upon our own tears and the deaths of our loved ones.

Together We Walk the Stepping Stones
by Barb Williams

Come, take my hand, the road is long.
We must travel by stepping stones.
No, you’re not alone. I’ve been there.
Don’t fear the darkness. I’ll be with you.

We must take one step at a time.
But remember, we may have to stop awhile.
It’s a long way to the other side
And there are many obstacles.

We have many stones to cross.
Some are bigger than others.
Shock, denial, and anger to start.
Then comes guilt, despair, and loneliness.

It’s a hard road to travel, but it must be done.
It’s the only way to reach the other side.

Come, slip your hand in mind.
What? Oh, yes, it’s strong.
I’ve held so many hands like yours.
Yes, mine was once small and weak like yours.

Once, you see, I had to take someone’s hand
In order to take the first step.
Oops! You’ve stumbled. Go ahead and cry.
Don’t be ashamed. I understand.

Let’s wait here awhile so that you can get your breath.
When you’re stronger, we’ll go on, one step at a time.
There’s no need to hurry.

Say, it’s nice to hear you laugh.
Yes, I agree, the memories you shared are good.
Look, we’re halfway there now.

I can see the other side.
It looks so warm and sunny.
On, have you noticed? We’re nearing the last stone
And you’re standing alone.
And look, your hand, you’ve let go of mine.
We’ve reached the other side.

But wait, look back, someone is standing there.
They are alone and want to cross the stepping stones.
I’d better go. They need my help.
What? Are you sure?
Why, yes, go ahead. I’ll wait.

You know the way.
You’ve been there.
Yes, I agree. It’s your turn, my friend . . .
To help someone else cross the stepping stones.

Fridays

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.

I don’t want to forget

I don’t know whether I ever posted this. I know that I was desperate to remember everything. Today I know I did not write enough, I did not take enough photos, I did not spend enough time talking to my child.

So I don’t forget…

Lucinda commented today “Again, I can’t add anything on to what others have said; I don’t know how you have the courage to make these posts.”

I sometimes wonder why do I blog? My whole being screams “so I won’t forget”. I want to remember every day, every spoken word, every unspoken word, every feverish touch. My friends have lifetimes ahead with their children…I don’t. They have many more Christmases and birthdays to look forward to. The chances are that their children will bury them… As a family we lived one day at a time. We were grateful for every morning when we wake up!

We have friends who lost their 17 year old son almost 17 years ago. I have not seen her in a couple of years. When I last saw her she said that it does not become easier with time. One just learns to cope with the pain and the loss. My friend had to walk away from her son. He was declared brain dead after a drunk driver drove into the car transporting him to a rugby match….

She said “I touched his big feet. I lay my head on his chest and I could hear his heart beat …. I walked away and his body was warm…” Steven’s heart beats on in another person’s chest. They, generously in all their pain, donated his organs and saved the life of another mother’s child..

Joan never had the opportunity to say “goodbye forever” to Steven. She said “Goodbye, have a good game. Love you!” Joan treasures the last hug, kiss, laugh… She holds onto it.

I want to hold onto every memory I possibly can. As hard as it is, I write so I will remember everything.

A lot of what I write I don’t post. It is too raw.

I hold onto Vic’s last words to me…”I love you Mommy”. I hold onto the memory of her beautiful smile, her brave battle, her devotion to her sons and family. I hold onto the purity of her heart and the kindness in her heart. I hold onto her gentle memories.

Never has the pain been as raw and the loss as real as now. For a couple of weeks I arrogantly thought that a scab was forming over the pain. Then it was cruelly plucked off.

In a weird way I am glad the scab was plucked off. I am glad that I am feeling that intense pain again. I am relieved that the tears are running over my cheeks blurring the words as I type.

I want to remember. I don’t ever want to forget. I want to remember my beautiful, precious angel child.

Lessons From Strangers

I reblogged this lovely post from http://lizardomd.com/.

280 days ago my precious Vic died peacefully. For a long time preceding her death Vic was at peace about leaving the world. She was dreadfully sad that she would not see her sons grow up, turn 21, graduate, fall in love, get married…. She was sad to leave me behind. She was sad to leave her friends behind.

Unfortunately, pain and a weak body prevented her from accomplishing some of her bucket-list items. She however left a wonderful legacy – two young men who were/are proud to call her Mommy and a Hospice. Vic taught people the meaning of living…. She never considered herself to be “dying”. She never wallowed in self-pity. She never stopped living.

We all have to die. We can die kicking and screaming or with dignity.

I hope I will be brave enough to be stoic and dignified when my time comes.

Love is…

Never have I missed you more than today.

The boys grief …

He is six-foot tall and wears a number 11 shoe. He has a beautiful open face, perfect teeth and a brilliant smile. He is very bright, a gifted sportsman, he is the “silent” type. He is Vic’s youngest son.

Last night he received an award at the school’s prize giving. His aggregate for the year 84.7% with 8 distinctions.

This is the most difficult year of his life. He lost his mom in the beginning of the academic year.

Jared is the perfect older brother. He is fiercely protective of his younger brother. Jared is gentle and caring. He has a white soul…

On the surface the boys are coping well. They are “getting on” with their lives.

Thank goodness for social media…It gives me an insight into what is happening behind their stoic appearances.

Jon-Daniel’s WhatsApp status is “Live until you die.” That is the example his Mom set…

Jared posted on Facebook on the 18^th of September “Can’t believe that it has already been 8 months… Miss you mommy… It feels like a lifetime already… Love you mom ♡ always in our heart♥ forever in our memories…♡“

On the 18^th of September Jon-Daniel posted: “How? I ask myself.. It already been 8 months without the greatest Mommy in the world! Time has flown since January, but the memories have stayed. And they will always stay, along with that special place in my heart that is only for MY MOMMY! Love you always Mom, miss you stax!”

On the 26^th of September Jared posted on Facebook “Missing you mommy… you were always there for a laugh♡“

The day of Stepping Stone Hospices’ official opening Jon-Daniel posted “Stepping Stone Hospice was officially opened this evening. Amazing to see 1 person’s dream can turn into something so big! And so amazing how much people will do for somebody they don’t know. Thank you to all that attended!”

He cried in the doorway of the Vicky Bruce Room

On the 11^th of October he posted on Vic’s Facebook page “Mommy, I miss you! When are you coming home?”

I am helpless in taking the children’s pain away. Their pain and grief is still so raw and deep.

The stress started years before Vic died. The boys grew up knowing that their Mommy was ill and in a lot of pain. They grew up living with Vic’s imminent death and dreadful suffering.

Teenagers appear to feel grief more intensely than adults, especially if one of their parents has died. The Adolescent Life Change Event Scale (ALCES), which mental-health specialists use to help quantify the events that are the most stress-inducing in teenagers, ranks a parent’s death as the number- one cause of adolescent stress. Second is the death of a brother or sister, followed by the death of a friend.

Teenagers are embarrassed by displays of grief and struggle to express their emotions. The boys seldom talk about their grief. They will tell me when the other brother is having a rough day….

Jared was very concerned about how his little brother would cope with his first birthday without his Mom. He went to great measures to ensure that his little brother was “protected” from the grief on his birthday. He blew up 40 balloons so Jon-Daniel would wake up to “fun”. (Vic always had lots of balloons on the boys birthdays.)

The firsts are coming fast and furious now. The first birthdays, prize giving’s, confirmations without their Mommy… Jared and my birthdays, Christmas and New Year is looming…

I love the boys with every fibre in my body. I hate that they occasionally walk in on me when I am crying. I hate that I cannot make their pain better. I hate that I am so helpless.

I wish I had died and not Vic. I wish that I could change places with my child. I wish I could rip the heartache out of my grandsons’ lives and hearts. I wish I could protect them.

I wish I could shake the cold world out there and make them realise how much pain the boys are in….

Please pray for Vic’s boys. Pray that they will heal. Pray that God will hold and protect them. Pray that they will learn to be happy again.

I pray that one day I will hear their happy, uncontrolled laughter echo through the house again.

https://tersiaburger.com/2013/03/20/i-love-you-angel-child/

https://tersiaburger.com/2013/09/18/the-shadow-of-grief/

https://tersiaburger.com/2013/09/11/your-children-are-not-your-children/

https://tersiaburger.com/2013/06/07/mommys-dream-is-coming-true/

A Poem About a Mother’s Love for Her Very Sick Child

I posted this when Vic’s death was a future event. I did not realise how dreadful the loss would be. How devastating the longing for my child. How severe the physical heartache would be… Today I would give everything I own just to hug and hold Vic one more time.

I know that I would do all things for you.
My spirit would always take care of you.
And when I die and leave this world behind.
You can be rest assured that my love will stay behind.

Even though sometimes we’re far apart.
You have always remained right here in my heart.
I will forever whisper in the wind
Unconditional love that’ll forever stay within.

If only I could go wherever you go
So I could do things I need to do for you.
Since I can’t, the best sacrifice I can give
is keep you in my heart and allow you to leave.

I’m lifting up the burden in your heart
‘Cause I know that you don’t know where to start.
I’m transferring all the pain inside of you
Into my care, into my heart, and now it’s through.

I love you so much and I know that I can bear
This greatest pain to let you go, I swear.
Know in your heart that my love will forever stay
Even though I would seem so far-away.

I’ll be your strength that’s why I’m relieving you
Of all the pain and tears inside of you.
No need to worry for all your pain will be gone.
It will be with me now, and I shall carry on.

You may think I’m letting you go without a fight.
If you only knew how I fought for you each night.
Just remember that there are signs everywhere.
So look around and acknowledge that they are there.

God said to me that love will always prevail.
And each day there is a tale for you to tell.
If you could already see the signs before your eyes.
Embrace it now. Let it stay. It is your guide.

God said the signs may be a word or two
When you least expect it, it is said to you.
It may also be the people that you have met.
Places, names, or things that you kept.

God told me to tell all these things to you
So happiness would set in and peacefulness, too.
I’m always here, and I’ll always love you.
I never wanted you to be in pain. It’s OK for you to go.

http://authspot.com/poetry/a-poem-about-a-mothers-love-for-her-very-sick-child/?fb_action_ids=3587335596077&fb_action_types=og.likes&fb_source=timeline_og

Happy birthday angel boy

Today Vic’s youngest son turned 15. It is his first birthday without his Mommy. As a family we have dreaded it.

Vic was a birthday person. Banners all over the house, balloons, singing, speeches and lots of laughter. Vic loved parties especially when they were her sons’ birthday parties.

We cannot do what she did. It would not be right to do what she did. We need to create new traditions around birthdays.

It is a day filled with pride and heartbreak. I know many people will think and say that Vic is smiling down from Heaven on her baby boy today. I know she is weeping. Vic never wanted to die. She so desperately wanted to live. She wanted to be at her sons’ birthdays, tell them how proud she is of them…Vic wanted to mother her boys herself…

The day has come and gone. We all hid our feelings so well. We laughed, smiled and sang….

Tonight when I get into bed I will weep with my child for my grandson…

10th birthday

Vic wrapping Jon-Daniel's gift — Vic wrapping Jon-Daniel’s gift

Jared smearing cream all over the birthday boy's face... — Jared smearing cream all over the birthday boy’s face…

Deathbed promises kept and broken

During the month of August I again stood next to a deathbed. It was next to the deathbed of one of our patients.

I was touched by the absolute outpouring of love from the family to the patient. I have seen it at almost every single deathbed I have stood next to…. The second death I ever witnessed was weeks before my mother-in-law died. My Mother-in-Law was in a hospital. The lady opposite her was dying and moved into a dying-room. I was allowed to sit with her. I prayed for her and tried to comfort her. I spoke to her almost non-stop for 11 hours. In the evening her husband came to visit. He was not told that his wife was dying by the hospital staff…

“What is wrong with my wife?” he asked

“She is very ill” I said

“When will she come home?” she asked.

“You must speak to the staff” I said

“They say nothing” he said

“Your wife is dying… I am so sorry.”

I know it was not my place to tell this poor man that his wife was dying. But, if I hadn’t he would have had to live with the fact that hours after visiting hours were over, she died… He got to say goodbye.

I sat with the woman until she died. She was petrified of death. I could see that they were indigent people. Poorer than poor.

She knew she was dying. She was desperately trying to stay alive. Trying to console and calm her I asked her whether she was scared. She nodded. I asked her whether she was worried about something. Again she nodded. I asked her whether she was worried about her children. She again nodded.

In the heat of the moment I promised her I would help her husband look after her children… I made a deathbed promise.

The next day I tried to get her family’s contact details from the hospital. They refused to give it to me.

I have had to live with the fact that I promised a dying woman that I would take care of her children and that I broke that promise.

Extravagant promises to dying loved ones often pose an ethical conflict, defined as when opposing acts each fulfil an ethical value, but neither can achieve both. The situation also arises when one is tempted to lie to dying friends and loved ones out of kindness. A mother and daughter are involved in a fatal car accident; the daughter is dead, the mother is dying. “Is our daughter all right?” the fading mother asks her husband.

In such a case, it is reasonable and ethical to conclude that the kind answer, “Yes,” is more ethical than the truthful answer, “No.” A promise to a dying loved one may be an exception to the usual rule that it is unethical to make a promise one cannot or will not fulfil.

Often ridiculous and selfish promises are coerced from the loved ones standing next to a death bed. When we stand there we promise freely…we want to give the dying person that final peace of mind.

A classic example of a deathbed promise made in good faith is depicted in the black comedy “Where’s Poppa?” In this movie, the son promises his father, he would never place his senile mother in a home… At the time it was a reasonable promise but becomes increasingly more difficult to keep as the mother becomes more demented and senile. The vicious woman destroys every aspect of his life….

“Promises openly and freely made on the initiative of a dying individual’s loved one are true commitments. Promises coerced by a dying friend or relative and made out of kindness or guilt, on the other hand, should be re-evaluated at a less emotion-charged time. Both varieties of death-bed promises, however, create ethical obligations. They just can’t be as strong as the obligations created by promises to the living.”

I have stuck to every promise I made Vic. Many of the promises were heartbreakingly difficult to keep. Others were easy.

On Wednesday the 9^th of October 2013 we had the official opening of Stepping Stone Hospice’s building.

It is one promise I was able to keep.

The entrance to Stepping Stone Hospice being blessed

The boys outside the Vicky Bruce Dignity Room

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Jon-Daniel’s WhatsApp status is “Live until you die.” That is the example his Mom set…

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