Dying is a lonely journey. Not only for the sick person but also for the family. As hard as we may try to avoid death, the truth is that we do a lousy job of it. Science and medicine will certainly postpone it, even staying healthy might seem to delay it, but the harsh reality is that death does not wait for you, it does not ask you, and it does not listen to you. Death ignores your feelings and wants; you do not matter to death…Death is the only certainty in life! We need to remember that our existence here is fragile, and we never have as much time with people as we think we do. If there is someone or someones out there that you love, don’t neglect that and don’t put off engaging with them because waits for no-one… 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.
Category: Angels
My Angel Child
So many of my cyber friends have lost their children…these women and men have supported and guided me on my journey with Vic and held my hand in the early days of my grieving and heartache… They KNOW my pain. I found this poem on a bereavement site and would like to share (and dedicate) it to all the angel moms and dads out there. Thank you for your support, advice, encouragement and love.
My other cyber friends have done their best to understand and love – thank you all. I appreciate your compassion and continued support. I pray that you will never experience this pain. I pray that you will never become Angel Parents…
Angel Moms
We have shared our tears and our sorrow, We have given encouragement to each other, Given hope for a brighter tomorrow,
We share the title of grieving mother.
Some of us lost older daughters or sons, Who we watched grow over the years, Some have lost their babies before their lives begun, But no matter the age, we cry the same tears.
We understand each others pain, The bond we share is very strong, With each other there is no need to explain, The path we walk is hard and long.
Our children brought us together, They didn’t want us on this journey alone, They knew we needed each other, To survive the pain of them being gone.
So take my hand my friend, We may stumble and fall along the way, But we’ll get up and try again, Because together we can make it day by day.
We can give each other hope, We’ll create a place where we belong, Together we will find ways to cope, Because we are Angel Moms and together we are strong!
Oh God, I am drowning again. I pray that I will go to bed tonight and never wake up. I know it I stupid because it would kill the boys and cause others that love me so much pain, but I cannot face life without my child.
I was looking at posts on “The Grieving Parent”, a Bereavement Facebook page for parents (https://www.facebook.com/TheGrievingParent ) and it just made me feel so inadequate and weak. Bereaved parents speak of the healing they have experienced….I don’t know whether I ever will heal. Tonight, like yesterday and the 82 days before tonight, I fear that my life is over.
All parents love their children. Some have a closer bond than others. The mother /child relationship is the closest relationship anyone will ever find. There is a bond between a mother and child that cannot be broken or destroyed.
Vic’s death cannot “remove” her from my life. My love for her is never-ending and all-enduring. For 9 months I nurtured her in my womb. For 38 years I nurtured her in life. My life revolved around Vic.
Did we have a perfect relationship of never arguing, fighting or being angry with one another? Hell no!! We went through the different stages as all mothers and daughters do.
As a toddler and pre-teen Vic loved me with unshakeable conviction. By the time she entered her teens we reached the stage where we disliked one another… We always loved one another, but we certainly disliked one another at certain stages of our lives. It was a tumultuous swing in our lives…
Vic was extremely headstrong! She wanted to go to boarding school and that she did…She married early in life, against our wishes…Not because we disliked Colin but because she was too young. Vic got married 6 months after her 21st birthday. Six weeks later she fell pregnant against ALL doctors advice. She had two children at the risk of losing her own life and passing on the Osteogenesis Imperfecta disease and/or gene.
Vic also refused to die. Vic refused to be “sick”. She got dressed into normal day-clothes every day of her life. She refused to hand over the responsibility of her children’s upbringing to anyone regardless of how ill she was.
Vic did what she did when she wanted to. If she believed in something she would defy anyone and everyone. She was driven by her need to grow up and live her life to the full. The relationship shift from child to adult was very difficult for me to accept.
Our relationship changed after Vic had the boys. Maybe because then there was a greater level of understanding, by Vic, of the enormity of the responsibility that a mother has to her child…..
Vic was not a saint. She was a difficult teenager and a fiercely independent young woman. Yet our mother-daughter relationship was ultimately fulfilling. I was certainly not the perfect mother. I failed Vic on many levels. We were so different that we found it difficult to understand one another’s choices and needs.
Despite conflicts and complicated emotions, Vic and I loved one another unconditionally. We complemented one another perfectly. Vic so often said “God knew what He was doing when He put us together….We are such a good team!”
I am grateful for the time we spent together. I wish I had spent less time working and more time playing…I wish I had been less concerned about Vic’s financial care. I wish I had been there when she took her first steps…I got the hospital time. Her healthy time I spent working – playing catch-up for her hospital time… I wish Vic had grown up in a home with a mommy and a daddy…
In her later life Vic became a child again. She was totally dependent upon me. I did not have to “compete” with a spouse to take care of her. In the final months of Vic’s life she had panic attacks when I was away from her. In a weird, sick way my life was perfect. My baby was home. I could love and nurture her…
I wish we had more time…
Vic writing the boys final letters six days before her death.
In the final days of her life Vic cried “I want to live. Mommy I don’t want to die… If only I could live for one more year…”
I would give everything I own; every second of my remaining life; everything I love and cherish for Vic to have lived just one more year.
Wednesday I found another white feather floating in the sea…
Thursday we went to a famous wine farm, Spier. Spier has bird and cheetah sanctuaries. We wandered around and decided against the rather sophisticated meals served. We decided to find a coffee shop or boutique restaurant – something quainter than the rather commercial option available.
We were fascinated by a beautiful falcon and even more magnificent looking owls. Spier is a wonderful place to visit.
Tame falcon flying around at Spier
We left and decided to be adventurous and ignore the GPS. We drove in an unknown direction on the lookout for something quaint. We drove for two kilometres when we found an interesting sign…Aspidistra Nursery and Tea Garden.
We decided it sounded quaint enough.
It was the most amazing Tea Garden. I expected fairies to jump out from the beautiful flowers. Chimes merrily tinkled and chimed in the gentle breeze…
Fairy GardenA bit of Heaven
We had a delightful meal. It was so peaceful we just sat and chatted. WE spoke about how much Vic would have enjoyed the garden and how much we miss her. We exchanged funny stories about Vic and decided to have desert. I ordered the scones (Vic and my favourite). The presentation of the scones was amazing!
My scones!
“Mom would have loved this!” I said
A white feather floated down onto the table…
“You got your white feather Oumie!” Jared said.
I must be honest that when I started looking there were white feathers everywhere. There were white pigeons sitting in the trees.
After our leisurely lunch we walked through the nursery part of Aspidistra and my wildest expectations were surpassed! It was beautiful. Plants and flowers were displayed in beautiful handcrafted containers; ribbons were swaying in the breeze.
Then I saw it! The perfect angel for Vic’s garden of remembrance!
It is a handmade, one of a kind, angel – just like my angel child. Perfect – just like Vic!
Vic’s angel…
The angel is being couriered to our home next week.
I desperately miss my little girl. I don’t want to be planning her Garden of Remembrance – I want to be planning our trip to Italy. I want to be having a cup of coffee with my child not putting an almost empty bottle of coffee in a memory box.
I walked back into our home after a wonderful 12 day vacation in Cape Town and the grief overwhelmed me again. The emptiness of the house truly got to me again today…
Will I ever feel happy again? As I am typing I can hardly see the screen of my laptop. I cannot stop the tears.
I cannot believe I ever thought it would be better for Vic to die… I cannot believe I have to face the rest of my life with this empty hole in my heart. I cannot bear the sorrow. I want to hold my little girl and hear her say “I love you Mommy”.
I want to see her smile when I say “I love you with all my heart Angel”
The feather I found on the beach. The foot imprint is mine, and the shell I dropped when I stooped to pick up the feather…
That Little Penny In The Car Park
Remember this every time you pass that little penny in the car park.
(I always thought that it was for good luck, but I love this version better)
I found a penny today
Laying on the ground.
But it’s not just a penny,
This little coin I’ve found.
Found pennies come from heaven,
that’s what my Grandpa told me.
He said Angels drop them down.
Oh, how I loved that story.
He said when an Angel misses you,
They drop a penny down;
Sometimes just to cheer you up,
To make a smile out of your frown.
So, don’t pass by that penny
When you’re feeling blue.
It may be a penny from heaven
That an Angel’s dropped to you.
Pennies From Heaven – copyright Charles L Mashburn
1998
Earlier this week I received this little poem on my mobile phone from a friend. Strangely enough I had also read it on Bereavement for Parents’ site just hours before… I thought back to a horrible day in my life when my Dad and I saw a coin lying in the street. My Dad bent down and picked it up. “This is from the angels. Always keep it – it will bring you good luck”. I dutifully put the coin in my purse and thought “how will I ever know which one is my lucky coin”….
Over the years I always remembered my dad’s words when I saw a coin lying on the ground…
Two days ago we were sitting in a restaurant in Cape Town when I saw a coin lying between chairs. I immediately thought of the poem I had read just days before and remembered my Dad’s words.
I looked at the coin and thought to myself “What a coincidence. Same poem within the same week and then a stray coin…No! This is too easy…. I want a feather as a sign that Vic is with me.”
I did not bother to pick up the coin. I have thought about the coin a couple of times and regretted not picking it up!
Jon-Daniel and I went for a long walk on the beach today. We walked ankle-deep in the sea not talking at all. I was walking along all teary eyed. The thought crossed my mind that this was something Vic could never do – take long walks on the beach…. I was thinking how I wish she was here in Cape Town with us….
The waves rolled in caressing the sand and then slid back…The sand was so clean and perfectly “even” as the waves receded back into the sea. I looked at Jon-Daniel thinking how sad he was looking. I knew, he too, was thinking of Vic.
My eyes followed a wave rolling out when I saw this perfect white feather lying motionless in the sand where minutes earlier there was water….
I felt immense peace and joy. I knew that at that moment my precious child was walking next to me. I knew that she had seen my tears mingle with the salty sea water and that she wanted me to know that she was with me.
I heard the last words she ever spoke “Mommy I love you…”
Angels appear to people of all religions and sometimes to people who do not believe in anything. The Bible and other holy books are full of examples of angelic messages and appearances. The word angel comes from the Greek word “angelos” from the word “ev-angelos” which means the gospel or good message. Angels carry messages from God to humans.
Dreams
In the Christian Bible, angels often spoke to people in a dream. One angel visited Joseph in a dream and told him of Mary’s baby conceived via the Holy Spirit and he should not put her aside as was the custom.
An angel warned Joseph to take a different route home after the birth of Jesus because the wicked king wanted to kill the infant. Jacob dreamed of a ladder of angels leading to heaven.
Many more examples showing divine messages from heaven exist in the Bible and the literature of many cultures and religions.
Do angels send you messages in your dreams?
I love you messages
Many people believe that angels bring “I love you” messages from heaven. Angels send calling cards and little gifts for those who are open and receptive to them. People often say they receive angelic gifts of comfort or warning against danger when they feel sick or discouraged.
So, how do you tell that there are one or more angels around you? Here are some signs that many people recognize.
Feathers
Feathers show up in unusual places and when you least expect them. Angel feathers are white, fluffy, and seem to fall into your path for only you to find. Sometimes, they glow with colors and radiances you never see in birds.
Coins
Most people find money from time to time. Some say that angels purposely toss coins into your path. The denomination of the coin and the message on it all hold clues to its meaning. One person may find pennies while others find dimes everywhere. Money signifies support in finances, emotions, spirit, and physical being.
Rainbows and butterflies
Rainbow promises sometimes show up from nowhere. After the great flood, God set a rainbow in the sky as a sign of His promise not to destroy the earth by water ever again. Double rainbows, and rainbows captured in dew or mist are especially significant. People sometimes think of butterflies as tiny living parts of rainbows that bring their own promise. They sometimes fly to relatives of a deceased loved one.
Clouds
Most people spend time gazing at cloud formations and seeing pictures there. Clouds forming unusual shapes such as hearts, feathers, or angelic forms, clouds that are colored or shaped like orbs show special significance and could be angelic messages.
Music
Did you ever catch yourself singing or humming the same tune repeatedly? Music repeats itself or comes in themes over time. Song titles may be messages offering guidance from an angel. Most people know when that happens and can discern the meaning for themselves.
Voices
Although they will not admit it, most people have heard a voice calling their names. Sometimes in an attempt to get your attention, an angel needs to speak to you directly. Pay attention to that voice to see what message it may bring you.
Lights
Have you ever seen a beam of light that you cannot explain? When a bright or colored light floods a room, it could be brilliance from an angel nearby. Sometimes, you can see these lights even with your eyes shut.
A mother cradled her sick child and prayed for guidance. The little girl woke up unable to walk and her mother rocked her and crooned softly to her, and worried about the future. She heard a voice say, “Everything will be okay.” A soft glow filled the room for several minutes and the mother knew all would be well. The next day the child walked again. Whether the light came from God, or an angel, it definitely was heaven sent.
Sensations
Some people say they feel the brush of angel wings on their face or arms. Others feel angelic hands on their shoulders or on the top of their heads. A room may fill up with delicious scents of chocolate, roses, bread baking, or another loved aroma.
You
Do angels give you messages in your dreams? Do they drop feathers and coins for you to find? Do they send light when things seem darkest? Do they send music or wonderful smells your way? If so, be still and listen for messages or encouragement. Perhaps heaven is reaching out to you through angels. What angel stories do you carry in your heart? http://voices.yahoo.com/signs-angels-around-you-6750250.html?cat=34
Yesterday Jon-Daniel and I went for a long walk on the beach. The water was freezing but my feet adjusted to the temperature. It was great feeling the sand between my toes. Families were playing in the sand – very few people were brave enough to swim. There were quite a few surfers braving the cold water. The sky was clear and for the first time in many, many months I felt totally relaxed.
I thought back to Vic’s birth! I remembered a beautiful baby girl born with a mob of black hair. I remembered the rush of love that I experienced when I first saw her. I fell in love with Vic the second I lay eyes on her. When she curled her perfect little fingers around mine I was lost in the wonder of her perfection.
Vic was born 3 weeks early. She weighed in at 5.6 lbs. (2.54kgs). She was tiny but perfect! From the first breath that she took she ruled my life. Her first little outfit was a baby-pink jersey that a cousin knitted for her. Her clothes were doll-sized.
My Mom bathed her for the first month of her life. I was too scared! At 6 weeks Vic had one feed a night only…. She was born an angel. Vic had her first known fracture at 6 weeks… She started walking at 18 months; Vic built her first puzzle before she could crawl.
I remembered her gurgling and laughing. The minute she opened her eyes she would have this huge smile on her face. Her smile reached her eyes even then….
Vic never stopped smiling. She was a ray of sunshine. She never complained.
When I think of the cards the poor little poppet was dealt I realize more than ever what an incredibly strong person she was.
We were driving back from the first athletic meeting when she was in Grade 1.
“Mommy I want to ask you something” Vic said
“You know you can ask my anything you want…” I replied very upbeat. I had won the parents race and felt pretty good about myself.
“I know what you are going to say …” Vic said
I looked into the rearview mirror and saw silent tears running down her little cheeks.
“What’s wrong Angel?” I asked
“Mommy, why can’t I run like the other children?” she replied.
Vic was diagnosed with Osteogenesis Imperfecta at 18 months.
I was in total denial that there was anything wrong with my perfect child. My Dad was the only one who was brave enough to continuously tell me that there was something with Vic. The sclera of her eyes was blue and she fractured easily.
The grandparents conspired with Tienie (her father) and took her to the Freestate University. A professor assessed Vic and diagnosed Osteogenesis Imperfecta.
The family decided that Tienie had to break the news to me. I went mad with fear. OI is a very rare disease and in the pre-world wide web days, a library was the only source of information. I went from doctor to doctor begging for a cure or even a hint of hope that there was a cure in sight. The doctors told me I should wrap Vic in cotton wool and wait for her to die
Whilst all of this was happening Vic kept fracturing bones. She would bump her little sandal against the step and fracture her tibia. Whilst in Plaster-of-Paris she would re-fracture in the Plaster–of-Paris… We were treated like child-abusers at hospital emergency rooms and our neighbours reported us to Child Welfare.
Every living moment I would talk to Vic about how special she was; how frail her little bones were and how careful she must be.
When Vic was 3 years old a colleague mentioned a homeopath that worked miracles with rare and untreatable disorders… a Professor Majorkenis. I immediately made an appointment to see him. He practiced in Johannesburg, and as a small town girl I was petrified. Johannesburg was Sodom and Gomorrah!
The Professor was of Greek descent. He was of a short stature and spoke heavily accented English. His brown eyes were wrinkled, warm and gentle. His handshake was firm and reassuring.
He spent a long time examining her, measuring her electronic fields and all sorts of weird and foreign tests.
He made no commitment. He merely told me that he was on-route to Europe for an International Homeopathic Association conference and would discuss it with his fellow doctors there. (He was President of the International Homeopathic Association.)
I received a phone call from France a week later. It was the professor! The connection was poor and with his heavy accent I managed to hear that he was prepared to do experimental treatment and wanted to start in two weeks!
Without any discussion with anyone I resigned my job, phoned a colleague who has relocated to Johannesburg a couple of months earlier and asked him whether he knew of any vacancies in the glass industry and went home to break the news to my husband and parents!
The family went into high-energy planning. Vic and I would travel by train as I was scared of driving on my own and getting lost. Tienie would drive my car to Johannesburg two weeks later so he could celebrate Vic’s 3rd birthday with us. I would live with my parents-in-law, who had recently relocated to Johannesburg, and Tienie would live with my parents. He was still at University and could not relocate.
We gave up the flat, packed up our furniture and belongings and put everything in storage. Vic and I said our goodbyes to all our friends and then it was time to leave…
I remember my fear with crystal clear clarity when we boarded the train. I cried hysterically and clung to my Dad. My mom sobbed, and my dad wiped tears from his eyes telling me I must be strong and look after the “little one”. We would speak on the phone every Sunday…
The train slowly pulled out of the station, and I held my sobbing baby girl close to my heart. Her hair was wet from my tears. Vic was totally distraught. My parents, siblings and Tienie faded into the night as we sped towards a cure.
Easter was one of Vic’s favourite times of the year. She loved the Easter Egg Hunt ever since she was a toddler… Traditionally we always celebrate Easter Bunny Day on the Monday and not Easter Sunday. (I did not want the Easter Bunny Hunt to be confused with the true meaning of Easter.)
As a toddler the EEH build-up started on the Sunday evening. If she went to bed early (and without a protest) the Easter bunny would come and visit the next day…. Monday morning she would wake up early and ask us whether the Bunny has arrived…We would tell her she has to have breakfast first… then we told her to keep an eye out for the Easter Bunny…. Our friends would arrive with their little ones who, for once, would be as good as gold. The Daddy’s would walk Vic and the other little ones around the block whilst the Mommies’ would hide the Easter eggs.
A daddy would proclaim “Oh I think I just saw the bunny!” and the dash for home would start! To the great disappointment of the little ones the daddy’s were always too slow and all they ever found was a trail of Easter eggs. When the children were young the eggs were just the marshmallow type. As our cash flows improved the marshmallow Easter eggs improved to hollow chocolate types.
I would start buying Easter Eggs almost immediately after the Valentine’s shelves were emptied and restocked with Easter Eggs.
Sadly we got to a stage when Vic was too old for the hunt. Vic no longer believed in the Easter Bunny but humoured me, or rather discovered the advantage of humoring me. Marlene, my BFF, and I made massive hollow chocolate Easter Eggs, and not even Vic was able to eat her whole egg… We toasted Hot Cross buns and ate far too many Easter eggs. Easter remained a special time of the year.
Then we had our first grandchild and the game was back on! Vic LOVED Easter. (Actually, to be honest, Vic loved any gathering whether it be friends or family, but she especially loved Easter!)
I will never forget our first grandchild Easter Hunt. Vic was so excited that her baby would have his first Easter Egg Hunt.
A radiant Easter Bunny hiding Easter Eggs…
Colin and Danie started walking Jared whilst Vic, and I hid the Easter Eggs. The poor baby could never eat all the eggs and I ended up taking bag loads to AIDS homes. Then grandchild two and three arrived, and the game was truly on.
Over the years we developed a wonderful system where the little ones would collect the eggs and Vic would divide it equally between all the children. At a certain stage I decided to cut down on the chocolate and bought the kids pyjamas and less eggs….Well I suppose I tried to cut down but wasn’t too successful. The thought was noble.
Vic Easter Monday 2012 – her last Easter…
Even though Vic’s boys have been too old for an Easter Egg Hunt for several years, they have enjoyed the thrill of helping the younger cuzzies look for the bunny and the eggs. Aunt Vic never stopped sharing the Easter eggs amongst the kids.
Last Easter the two Cape Town girls were with us for the first time. I loved their joy. I missed the three little ones who live in the UK. Vic had a good day.
This year will be the first year in 16 years that we will not have an Easter Egg hunt.
I still have the Lindt bunny Vic bought me last year.
2 months, 6 days or rather 65 days totalling 93,600 minutes or 1560 hours since Vic died…. Each minute feels like a lifetime of misery.
Every minute that passes pushes me further down into this horrible well of misery and despair.
Vic was an absolute coffee addict. She would systematically drink her way through a 200g bottle of Jacob Kronung coffee per week. Vic drank a minimum of least 15 cups of coffee every day of her life. Vic stopped drinking coffee just before Christmas. It made her ill. She starting drinking Energade – naartjie flavour. For the last month of her life it was all she drank.
Well, Vic’s last bottle of coffee is almost finished…I am dreading anyone asking for coffee…I want the coffee to last. It is a link to my child. How stupid does this sound?? Stupid or not it is the way I feel. I have an unused bottle of coffee in the pantry. I am weeping because of an almost empty bottle of coffee!
At night I lie on my sofa in my TV lounge waiting for her to either BBM or shuffle down the passage… “Could I please have some coffee Mommy?” I have cried myself into oblivion this weekend. Danie is in Cape Town and the boys are with their Dad. It is safe to cry.
This is a very emotional time in all our lives. It is 8 weeks and 2 days since Vic died. We have all lived on our nerves for a long time and although we thought it would be a relief that Vic’s suffering was over, the grief has been overwhelming. Not only for the boys and I but also others that loved Vic…
I know the family is concerned about me. I know their concern stems from love.
I however need to blog. I need to hear from other bereaved parents that I am not going mad. That my grief is normal and that it is okay to grieve for my beautiful child.
I have subscribed to several blogs or sites for bereaved parents and it is not working for me. It is other parents words.
I will however borrow these words from another grieving parent
Dear Clueless
I would like to share with you my pain but that isn’t possible unless you have lost a child yourself and that I wouldn’t want you to have to experience. So with that being said, I would like to say this. I will try to my best to understand you if you try to understand me. I lost my child. My life will never be the same. I will never be the same again. I will be different from now on. I no longer have the same feelings about anything. Everything in my life has changed from the moment my child left to go to heaven. I will, on some days be very sad and nothing you say will changes that so don’t feel like it is your job to make me feel better on those days, just allow me to be where I am.
When you lose a child you not only lose your reason for living, you lose the motivation to go on. You also lose your sense of self. It takes a long time to come to some kind of understanding for why this has happened, if ever. Of course we who have lost children know we have to go on but we don’t want to hear someone else tell us too. Especially from someone who has not lost a child. It makes me and anyone who has lost a child want to say who are you to tell me that? Did you bury your child? I don’t want this to sound like I don’t appreciate everything you say because I know you mean well, but I just want you to appreciate where I am coming from too. I want you to understand that some of the things you say hurt me and others like me without you really knowing it. I know it must be pretty hard to talk to people like myself, not knowing what to say. That is why I am writing this letter.
If you don’t know what to say, say nothing or just say I’m sorry. That always works for me. If you want to talk ad say my child’s name feel free I would love to hear his name anytime. You not saying his name didn’t make me forget it, or what happened to him. So by all means say his name. When special dates come or holidays come please forgive me if I’m not myself. I just can’t keep it up on those days. I may wish to be by myself so I can think about my child without putting on a front. Most of all I want you to know I’m having a hard time with the death of my child and I am trying my very best to get back into life again. Some days it may look like I have accomplished that, and other days like I am at square one.
This will happen the rest of my life periodically. There are just no words to explain the living hell this feels like. There are no words that could ever do it justice. So please bear with me and give me time and don’t put your own timetable on my grief and let me be the person I am now and not have to live up to the person you think I should be. Allow me my space and time and accept me for me. I will try my best to understand you.
So, if you are going to read my blog read it through my eyes and see my heart. If you are unable to handle the rawness of my words know that you are reading my soul. Remember that I don’t easily verbalize my emotions and this blog is my coping mechanism.
I have found hundreds of notes and journal entries in a file called “Our Story.” Vic loved my blog and wanted me to share “Our Story”. It was her wish. I will continue to do so.
So, love me in my time of sorrow and allow me to cope whichever way I can…. I love you too and appreciate your caring.
A glimpse into Vic’s life and soul…a journal entry she made on the 24th of March 2003
“And so it begins. Tomorrow is the first surgery of this year. My poor children. My family. This is so difficult. I am panic-stricken, but not about the surgery. I promised Jared we would have a nice school holiday. It’s his first holiday and he was so excited about staying home with his mommy. I’m his mommy…. Do you know that? It doesn’t always feel like it. Do you understand? Do you know what I mean? I’m sure you know what I mean. It doesn’t always feel real. I carried them. I gave birth to them but there are days when they don’t even feel like my children. What if I die tomorrow? Are they going to remember me? What have I really meant in their lives? Everyone is so amazing about my bone disease that I sometimes feel smothered by their love. Does that make sense? Does that make me ungrateful? I feel so guilty. People have been unbelievable. I never knew that there were so many special people in this world. I have been carried on the wings of their prayers.
My poor children. I already miss them. I know this sounds jumbled but that is how I’m feeling. I feel like there is a hole in my stomach. I never slept last night. Again. I always think that Col and I will be closer or at least loving the day before my ops because everyone else is. But it never is that way. People are so amazing. Everyone phoning and wishing us well and saying prays for us, but then I don’t get to spend any time with the children or Colin. We land up shouting at the kids, because they keep trying to get our attention. We try to eat and the phone rings. We try to bath and the phone rings. Colin asked me to send off some documents, to the auditors and I promised I would do it this morning and by the time he got home I still had not done it, which already irritated Col. So I sent them off while Col and the boys ate dinner and my food stood getting cold. What if I die tomorrow? I wouldn’t even have enjoyed my last dinner with my family.
Mom does placements in East Africa and I help out by making the phone calls and making appointments for the interviews. (I get paid for it, very well at that). And I really enjoy doing it. It is something that I know I am good at. I am an organiser by nature. I become obsessive with the details and the smaller details to make it go smoothly. The only thing is that mom only found out last night that we needed to do 6 placements and the guys from East Africa are coming on Monday and mom still needs to do the filtering process before they arrive. Today is Wednesday. Tomorrow is hospital. Mom starts interviewing Friday. She is interviewing on Saturday as well. Mom always says if you want something done give it to a busy person. But today, I feel swamped. I like things in little neat packages. Not disorganised. I specially kept Jon-Daniel home because of me going to hospital and I did not get to even have a game of fingerboard with the children. I only found out on Tuesday that I was being operated on Thursday. I haven’t packed yet. Col and I are bickering, because I’m not getting to him and today he had a very important meeting with his boss. And we couldn’t get around to talk about it. It was about his package. We are really battling financially. But that’s another story. (I know you know what I’m talking about. We all go through it at some point in our lives.) I was so proud of Colin. To approach his boss for an increase was extremely difficult for him. It has taken him 4 months to do it. Colin is very proud. I think most men are, but Colin comes across as very blasé, which he really isn’t.
I become tearful when I think of going back to hospital. It is so difficult for me and people don’t understand that I’ve built up such a resistance to hospital. What really hurts is that I spend so much time in hospital that people don’t come and see me especially if I’m only in for a few days. Life just keeps going on. Nothing changes. It was the same after my father died 3 years ago. I so wished life would stand still and mourn with me.”
Reposted from http://sickocean.wordpress.com/2013/02/16/wings-made-of-stones/ – Aarthi is a very talented poet who manages to capture the essence of life and suffering. Thank you Aarthi for your beautiful words.
she was forever alone
in her endless fights
through life and times
she stood where
she always was
embedded in earth
clad in stones
she was buried half
under the ground
in pain, in suffocation
her strongest wish was
to fly ever high
free herself and
reside in the sky
forever to come
her helplessness grew
her pain deepened
and her struggles rose
to new levels
deep within her soul
and she flapped
ever so hard
ridding herself of all the mud
and all that was keeping her
away from the vast blue above
and when she did come up
she realized that
her wings they were
made up of stones
of mud, of metallic bones
and she realized that
through years perhaps
or because of her birth
she was defined as
a woman made of stones.
i know this poem has a sad end.. and i usually prevent myself from writing this kind, but then the irony of life sometimes is that at some point in our struggles, and very rarely so, it does happen that we might be limited by what we have made ourselves or what we were born with… certain dreams tend to be impossible, certain hopes are meant to be thrashed… and though it is not the end of it, it is certainly an important aspect of life to be realized. http://sickocean.wordpress.com/2013/02/16/wings-made-of-stones/
I know Vic is flying, feather light and unrestrained by pain. Fly Angel Child!!
I have been following your journey now for some time and my heart goes out to you and your family. It is NOT EASY to care for somebody that is terminally ill. It makes it even more difficult if that person is your child. I would like to share something with you though. It is vitally important that you take care of yourself in this tiring time. Please accept all the help from family and friends that’s been offered to you. This will give you some breathing space. It will also allow Vic to know that it is okay if Mom is just having a little bit of “me” time. Her energy is very powerful and she proved it to everybody up to now that she wants to survive.
Allow all Angels and guides to assist you with the care that you and your family so much need right now. God allows you to call upon their assistance when you need them. When Jacob was struggling with an Angel he called the Angel Michael to assist him and Michael was there not only to help him, but also to guide him with whatever he was struggling with. There are many stories in the Bible and other scriptures about God’s Angels. What still amazes me is that God found it necessary to create Angels. HE knew that we and all other creatures would need assistance and comfort when we are lonely. It took me a long time to work this out. It was only after my mom passed away and I fell very ill that my awareness of these wonderful creations of God was awakened.
Dear Tersia, know they are there, they are with you. You just need to ask for their guidance and assistance. Please know that Angels come in all forms. It might be your neighbour, your friend, nursing staff or maybe a presence! Nurture yourself. Get all the friends, family and help that you can now and trust people. They will be guided and equiped with the knowledge to help you now. You need to be taken care of now and so does your family.
Your friend
Louise xxx
The angels did come to comfort my child in her most fear-filled day.
We have found many angels in human form. Friends, family, acquaintances, WordPress Friends, Facebook friends…..
Thank you Louise for opening my eyes to the angels. Thank you for the angels that comforted my child in her hour of need and thank you for the angels that came and took her by the hand and whisked her away to a pain-free, joy filled place.
Vic's Final Journey 