“I’ll meet you at the end of the earth”

I am systematically packing up Vic’s belongings. It has been a humongous job! Vic was a squirrel – she hoarded! I have discarded hundreds of old VCR tapes….thousands of photos and many hundreds of cards. The “Good luck with exam cards” were totally wasted on Vic – I came across her school reports again…; get better cards, I love you cards and thank you for your friendship cards from her school friends; lots and lots of Valentine cards… The one card that got to me was a card that read:-

“To My Daughter

So many times

When you were a child,

I looked upon your

Sleeping face

And wondered

What kind of woman

You’d grow up to be?”

Then on the inside of the card it reads “You grew up as wonderful as I imagined” Today I can categorically state that was not true. Vic grew up to be a far more wonderful person than I could ever have imagined. Vic was kind and generous. Vic always smiled. Vic loved unconditionally and never judged. Vic was devoid of bitterness and hate. She never spoke unkind words. Her bravery goes without saying… Vic is the bravest person I know. Vic always said “I am fine thank you…” The shrillness of the “fine” was the “stress-indicator” of how ill she was.

The cards her school friends wrote were to thank her for her friendship and support. Gia wrote on the 26^th of March – year unknown: “This is just a short note to say thanks for all your help, attention, help and love while I’ve been under the weather…” On the 28^th of October 1991 Tatum wrote “You’re a great friend and I am dreading this time next year when we all have to say goodbye. Thank you for being you and putting up with me…” Monique wrote “Thanx for everything. You know what everything is.” One of the Vicky’s wrote “as friends we have walked together sharing joy, laughter and tears. Though time may pass and things may change, I’m sure you’ll agree, That one thing always stays the same…each other’s loyalty” Mouse wrote “Vicks thank you for willingly giving help – be it a smile or a thoughtful thought – It may go unnoticed but it is appreciated” Gia ended most of her notes, cards and letters with “I’ll meet you at the end of the earth”

I truly felt like a grave robber going through Vic’s private correspondence. I cannot keep it all – there is just too much and I did not want to discard her whole life. So I have made a memory box of all her school dance invitations and photos, her friends’ notes, some boyfriends’ letters and her theatre season tickets. I have added some of the hundreds of cards I sent her over the years. Yes…Vic kept them all!!!!

How can I just wipe out her lifetimes memories? Vic treasured these items and I will keep it safely for her grandchildren to see one day… This memory box is her memory box. A tribute by her friends… It was an experience to “see” Vic in high school. Vic insisted on going to boarding school in High School, and she was accepted at one of the most prestigious girl schools in South Africa. Vic LOVED the freedom and camaraderie of boarding school. She got up to a lot of mischief! I have now personally seen the photos of what the girls got up too… But I am so glad.

I have come to realise that I never truly allowed Vic to grow up. I was an over protective mother and quite honestly maybe even a little overbearing. Vic always remained a child. Albeit a mature child and an old soul but never the less a child. From the day my beautiful baby girl was born I knew I had to protect her from the world. She was too tiny and beautiful for this horrible world we live in. Now my beautiful baby girl is safe from pain, hurt and the ugliness of the world.

Tony’s poem

This poem was written by Tony Doiron. I assume from the words that Tony lost a child too… This poem really got to me. My child was just older and could walk, talk and count… Thank you for your beautiful words Tony.

You were lying in my arms,
As I tried to say goodbye,
“It is for the best”, they said,
And I knew that was true.

I gazed at your little hands,
Given to us that day,
You wouldn’t feel pain again,
But I wanted you to stay.

You fought for every breath you took,
Never letting go,
Until one day God made you His,
Leaving all of us below.

Although you couldn’t walk or talk,
Or even count to ten,
Your short life had more impact,
Than a hundred million men.

-Daddy
(written by Tony Doiron)

Drowning in grief

Photo Credit: http://favim.com/image/112419/

Today it is exactly six weeks since my precious child died. It has been such a rollercoaster ride.

I have gone from feeling numb and “accepting” to the deepest pit of despair and sorrow. I have gone back to working and trying to live a “normal” life again. I have laughed and cried. I have learnt to keep my sorrow to myself.

I have however had days this week where the sadness overwhelmed me. I have felt that I am drowning in it. The house is empty. I miss Vic’s smile. I miss her hugs. I miss our chats and text messages. I miss her smell and touch. I miss my daughter and friend.

It is a mere 6 weeks, and I don’t know whether I will ever heal. I know it is early days, but I also know my heart.

Judy Unger sent me these words and today I am posting it because it articulates EXACTLY how I felt this past week. Thank you Judy! It is as if the realization of Vic’s death only hit home this week….

I MISS MY CHILD!!!!!!!!

MY TEARS FILLED AN OCEAN

When you died my tears filled an ocean

I was violently submerged, gasping and barely able to stand the shock

Swirling in a raging current, a current of time

I was paralyzed and choking, wanting to drown, but unable to sink

The current dragged me along. It seemed endless . . .

Soon all my energy was gone. Anger at my fate depleted me further

I was going to somewhere unknown. The journey was filled with horror

I tried not to look while fighting to escape from the endless drift

Exhaustion led to floating. The current kept moving

Fighting it was useless; there was no going back to where I began…

The boys and their grief…

Today, Jared (16) was called in by the school psychiatrist.

The psychiatrist spoke to him at length about the stages of grief. Jared loves facts.

Thanks to Google I am well versed in the stages of grief and constantly try to monitor where the boys are in the process. I did not stop to think that knowing the stages, in detail, would give them a sense of comfort.

Ten years ago we were told by the doctors that Vic had maybe 5 years to live. The boys were then 6 and 4 years old.

At the age of five, a child may have thought of death as a deep sleep from which the person would eventually awaken, (like the princess in Sleeping Beauty). At seven, the child may believe that only grandmas and grandpa’s and other elderly folks can become ill and die—but not little kids or their parents. Age 12 they know that death can happen at any time…

Jared developed a sugar problem at the age of 6…due to the stress of Vic’s illness. Over the years he has developed a weight problem as he stress eats. His school marks have dropped and he has lost interest in sport, his friends and life. He is a Type 2 Diabetic.

On the surface Jon-Daniel appears to be coping far better than Jared.

He excels in school and has immersed himself in sports or hobbies. I think what may really be at work here is a defence mechanism known as sublimation. I believe that Jon-Daniel has over the years subconsciously channeled his strong feelings of grief into a more “socially acceptable” outlet. He directs his attention solely to areas where he feels comfortable. It is his way of regaining control over a world that has been jolted out of orbit.

Having the intellectual capacity to grasp the implications of death doesn’t necessarily equip teenagers to cope emotionally with the tragedy. Adolescents typically 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.

The stress started years before Vic died. The boys grew up knowing that their Mommy was ill and in a lot of pain. The realization actually only hit home with them in 2007 when we told the boys on a couple of occasions that Vic was dying. In hindsight it would have been better if we never told them but at the time I believed it to be the right thing to do. I could not lie to the boys and tell them Vic was doing well when she was fighting for her life on a ventilator and the doctors were turning off the ventilator.

It was clear with Jon-Daniel over the years that he harboured resentment towards Vic when she was in hospital. In his eyes Vic abandoned them…his way of coping was to “harden” his heart. He would literally ignore her or act up when she was ill… Over the past year he however “softened” his attitude towards his sick mom.

Because adolescents are so sensitive about their “image”, they may feel self-conscious or outright embarrassed by displays of grief and struggle to suppress their emotions. This can also be a means of protecting themselves.

As a family we experienced “anticipatory grief”. During the past year especially we resorted to black humour. There is no “right way” or “wrong way” to mourn. Jared told me today that he asked his Church councillor last year whether you can mourn someone whilst they are still alive….

Grief is often expressed in one of the following ways:

Depression
Changes in conduct or acting-out behaviours
“Perfect” behaviour
A decline in academic performance
Refusing to attend school
Turning to alcohol or illicit drugs to numb the emotional pain
Seeking solace through a sexual relationship
Overeating or under-eating
Sleeping more than usual or not getting enough sleep
Physical symptoms

It is said that a teenager who loses a parent is also subconsciously mourning the end of the childhood he’d led up until now. However in the case of Vic the boys have potentially regained a childhood…I just hope and pray it is not too late for them to have a childhood.

Five Stages of Grieving

Shock / Denial

This is a protective mechanism that helps the person to function for the time being. With denial, the person may refuse to believe what happened. For instance, one teen was waiting for her friend to come to her graduation party and kept texting him to see when he would be there. Finally, she got a call from his sister telling her that he was killed in a motorcycle accident. She refused to believe he was dead, however, and reacted by telling the sister she was lying. Of course, his friend was experiencing shock. During shock, the person can function as though nothing happened, but may feel like she is in a surreal world or place.

Anger

Often there is blaming others for the loss or lashing out at people. Sometimes people act out their anger in other ways. The mother of a teen realized she was blaming her son for causing his own death after she began telling his friends, “Please, don’t do this to your mothers.” In essence, she was saying to her son, “Look what you’ve done to me.” The anger needs to be processed, though. The mother began to realize that her son was a teenager and that teenagers take risks. Teenagers’ brains aren’t fully developed in the area of judgment, so they don’t gauge risks the same way as an adult. Also, there were other factors that contributed to her son’s death besides his risk-taking behavior. Working through the anger helps a person to move through the other stages of grieving.

Bargaining / Magic

This often involves either cutting a contract with yourself, asking your higher power to take you out of the situation or fantasizing that this is some sort of dream and tomorrow you’ll wake up and it will never have happened. This stage helps the person to feel some control over the situation. For example, when one mother saw her son in the hospital emergency room lying dead in a body bag after all attempts of resuscitation had failed, she laid over his body begging God to breathe life back into him, praying for a miracle.

Depression / Grief / Sadness

This stage involves a lot of “what ifs.” The person now turns the anger inward and blames herself for the loss. Often this is false guilt, though, and the person really had no control over what happened or no real way to prevent it. This stage provides an opportunity for the person to grow spiritually and perhaps further develop spiritual beliefs as she searches for the meaning or purpose of life, death, pain and suffering. Even if the person is somehow at fault, perhaps the person’s actions or shortcomings are being used as part of a greater plan.

Acceptance / Forgiveness / Resolution

Accepting the loss doesn’t mean you like what happened. It does mean that you are trusting that life can be good again in spite of the hurt and pain the loss has caused you. Sometimes we need to forgive the loss or perhaps someone who has directly caused our pain or grief. Forgiving means letting go of bitterness and revenge, which only harm us and not the offender. To be unforgiving means we are not moving on and letting go, but continuing to allow ourselves to be hurt by the other party or the loss. We feel more powerless when we keep wanting something from others that they cannot give us. Perhaps this is an apology or maybe a change of heart. Nevertheless, we can always grow and move on without seeing any change in the other person or getting back what was taken from us. We take back our power in the situation when we begin reversing the negative consequences in our lives and perhaps by finding new purposes and meanings for our lives. http://www.cincinnatichildrens.org/service/s/surviving-teens/stressors/grief-loss/

Grief never ends, but it does change in character and intensity. Grieving is like the constantly shifting tides of the ocean; ranging from calm, low tides to raging high tides that change with the seasons and the years. I know this from my parents and BFF deaths.

We will meet with the Hospice councillor that the boys saw last year – they connected with him. Maybe it is time to start Jared on an anti-depressant….

We love the boys so much. I wish we could wrap them in cotton and protect them from the world. They are so beautiful and have these AMAZING personalities. They are not difficult or rebellious teenagers.

I wish I knew what to do.

The stench of hatred

On the 22nd of February I posted on a blotched back operation that Vic had and ultimately lead to her death. https://tersiaburger.com/2013/02/22/4027-days/

A family member commented “I hope one day you can forgive him, for he didn’t know what he was doing. I checked with Vicky, and she did.”

I know Vic had made peace with the surgeon. She died with no feelings of hatred in her heart. She bore no-one ill. Vic was a gentle, loving people-pleaser.

I am not. I have a dark side to me. I do not tolerate fools or bullies easily. I hate the surgeon and his compatriot in blotched surgery, Dr V, with every fiber of my being. He KNEW what he was doing. He admitted later that it was an experimental procedue…

I know exactly what the Bible says about forgiveness. I know how bitterness and hate affects one’s life. I know it robs one of your joys. I have read that you cannot enter Heaven if you have not forgiven. I have however also read, and choose to believe what is written in the Old Testament – an eye for an eye….

I received this lovely little anecdote today and thought, very sanctimoniously, that I would share it. When I however sat down and started typing I realized that I would be a hypocrite if I pretended to just pass on the moral of the story.

I know that hate contaminates everything.

The definition of Hatred:-

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

Hatred (or hate) is a deep and emotional extreme dislike that can be directed against individuals, entities, objects, or ideas. Hatred is often associated with feelings of anger and a disposition towards hostility. Commonly held moral rules, such as the Golden Rule, oppose universal hatred towards another.

The Bible refers to hatred between 71 and 93 times in the Bible – depending on which version you read.

Both the Old and the New Testaments deal with hatred. David, in the Psalms, thanks God for destroying those that hate him, and thanks Him for hating his enemies.^[1] This is the era of wars and kingdoms; armies destroy enemies, hate is political and military. But it is also domestic: David’s sons hate each other, and Absalom will kill his half-brother after the latter rapes and spurns his sister. And after banishment, Abasalom will hate his father and try to destroy him. However, the Old Testament also contains condemnations of hatred. For example, ” thou shalt not hate thy brother in thy heart”.^[2] In the New Testament, hatred focuses on the soul. Evil is internalised and the focus of hatred becomes that part of the heart, the sinning self. The New Testament also clearly condemns hatred. Jesus contended that “whosoever hateth his brother is a murderer and you know that no murderer hath eternal life abiding in himself.”^[3] But all people are, according to the gospels, sinners, and only have to look inside of themselves in order to find sin. Loving good means hating sin and turning from vice. Love, as Aquinas^{[citation needed]} teaches, must be divided into love of good things, the healthy movement of the soul true to itself, and love of inappropriate objects, the desire to have and use what may be bad for the soul.- Wikipedia

So herewith the anecdote…

A kindergarten teacher decided to let her class play a game.

The teacher told each child in the class to bring along a plastic bag containing a few potatoes.

Each potato will be given a name of a person that the child hates.

So the number of potatoes that a child will put in his/her plastic bag will depend on the number of people he/she hates.

So when the day came, each child brought some potatoes with the name of the people he/she hated. Some had 2 potatoes; some 3 while some up to 5 potatoes. The teacher then told the children to carry with them the potatoes in the plastic bag wherever they go (even to the toilet) for 1 week.

Days after days passed by, and the children started to complain due to the unpleasant smell let out by the rotten potatoes. Besides, those having 5 potatoes also had to carry heavier bags. After 1 week, the children were relieved because the game had finally ended… The teacher asked: “How did you feel while carrying the potatoes with you for 1 week?” The children let out their frustrations and started complaining of the trouble that they had to go through having to carry the heavy and smelly potatoes wherever they go.

Then the teacher told them the hidden meaning behind the game. The teacher said: “This is exactly the situation when you carry your hatred for somebody inside your heart. The stench of hatred will contaminate your heart and you will carry it with you wherever you go. If you cannot tolerate the smell of rotten potatoes for just 1 week, can you imagine what is it like to have the stench of hatred in your heart for your lifetime???”

Moral of the story: Throw away any hatred for anyone from your heart so that you will not carry sins for a lifetime. Forgiving others is the best attitude to take!

Newsflash: I pray that I will find forgiveness in my heart for the good doctors but tonight my eldest grandson is lying in his room, reading a book of poetry Vic left him, crying for his mother. Nothing that I do or say can make his pain less or bring his mommy back.

So that stench of hatred…I will live with it. It fuels my hatred.

Vic’s own journal 24.3.2003

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.”

Old habits die hard….

Today we had our first real family get together after Vic’s memorial service. It was Esther’s birthday on the 20^th of February.

I was uncertain about how the boys and I would handle it. It was our first family get together without Vic.

I was amazed at how much less time the cooking and baking took….not because there was one person less to cook for, but because there was no interruptions….I was always up and down the passage checking on Vic, helping her go to the bathroom, giving her meds or injections, cleaning up vomit… Sometimes I would check on her and we would just end up chatting or watching Cake Boss….

Vic always tried to help…poor little poppet! She would ask over and over again “How can I help Mommy?” If the truth be known she only got in my way but I loved the “us” time… Sometimes I would ask her to add the cheese to the cheese sauce whilst I stirred… She would take great pleasure in telling everyone that we baked or cooked….

Jared and I went off to Driving School this morning. I would get home just in time for the boys to set the tables under the trees in the garden and for me to finish off the meal.

Everyone arrived and the house was filled with happy, excited voices and the sound of children running around. It was a perfect summer day. For the first time in a long time lunch was ready, not a single dish burnt or spoilt…. My grandchildren are ALL fussy eaters. For once they ate all their food and went back for seconds and even thirds…

Esther told us that Yuri (6 years old), my youngest grandson, had a show and tell at school. He spoke about his family. He showed the class a photo of his mom, dad and brother. He also showed them a camping photo of him and his daddy. He told his class he was so lucky to have three grans and two granddads… His “gran number 3 is cool because she builds armoured vehicles and gives him lots of sweets”. I am gran number 3….He showed his class a photo of Vic and told them that she was his “beloved” aunt Vic who is already in Heaven with Jesus… Apparently the class of pre-schoolers all appropriately “ooh-ed and Aaah-ed”…

I cried a quiet tear.

Kari and Simone individually came up and hugged me. “How are you Ouma?” they asked with real concern…All the grandchildren are sleeping over tonight. The house is alive with their youthful enthusiasm and energy.

It was a lovely day and a wonderful evening. I missed Vic so much – at times I walked away because I had teared up again… It will always be great to be with loved ones, but it has changed forever.

There was an extra setting at the table and an empty seat….The boys unthinkingly set a place for their mom….Old habits die-hard!

I missed you so much my Angle Child!!

4027 days

Eleven years and ten days ago Vic had her first blotched back surgery that lead to 81 abdominal surgeries. She lived another 4027 days with excruciating pain, indignity and misery because of the ego and arrogance of a neurosurgeon. Her little body systematically being destroyed by the sepsis left behind by an idiot doctor.

Dr FS, you arrogant fool, you stole my daughter’s life, you stole a mother from two young boys, you stole her smile, her joy, her laughter, her marriage, her hope! You gave her despair, pain, a mangled broken body, faeces running out of her intestines into a bag, an open wound.

You coward, you would not face me in the passages of the Milpark ICU. You denied me the truth. You stole my child’s life!

You called my child a morphine addict. You withheld opiates from her after surgery. You SAID that the sepsis in the Pro-disc could be stopped with antibiotics…It was not necessary to remove and replace it…. 4027 days later it took her life…. Her little body riddled with infection, her body burning up with fever! For 4027 days she suffered!

You condemned my child to 11 years of horrific suffering and misery. Not a single day of her last 4027 days was she without pain.

I wish you saw her tears of pain whilst she was packing her little boys lunch boxes. I wish you heard her 4-year old son say “Don’t worry Mommy. I made my and my brothers beds because your back is sore”. I wish you saw the despair in her sons eyes. She was never able to give them a “normal” life. You ensured that they spent their childhoods in their sick mother’s bedroom and not in the garden playing ball with her…

I still hear her saying “Mommy I am so sore even my ears ache…”

What do you hear? The crisp sound of money? Certainly not my little girl’s screams’ of pain!

If only you said those magic words…”I am sorry….” You arrogant fool the only words you uttered were “I refuse to accept that I am the cause of Vicky’s condition…”

Coward! I hate you. You have my daughter’s death on your conscience. I hope you rot in hell!

https://tersiaburger.com/2012/10/19/the-albatross/

Esther’s Living Eulogy

Esther was the first of Danie’s children that I met, when we started dating. It was a couple of weeks before her wedding. I was so thrilled when she asked me to go with her for the final fitting of her wedding dress!

I will never forget her words to me in the car that day: “Don’t worry about us kids. Just worry about you and my dad”

I cannot remember whether I articulated my fear of her and her siblings, but she sensed it!

I was PETRIFIED of Danie’s four children. I did not particularly like children. Maybe my mind refused to accept the fact that I love children because I made the conscious decision to not subject a second or third child to Osteogenesis Imperfecta. The OI gene was passed onto Vic by her Dad, but we had been divorced for many, many years and I accepted that I could not have another child. I did not have space in my heart for another child.

I loved Vic with an all-consuming love. I did not always like her, but I always loved her!

I met the kids and I was petrified. They were livelier than any other children I had ever met with their own little quirks. I actually never dated a man with children until I met Danie!

I blogged on the proposal before and will not bore you with the beautiful details of it again… https://tersiaburger.com/2012/10/05/danie-the-wind-beneath-my-wings/ . You are welcome to read the post on it.

We have been married for 22 years. For 22 years these amazing children have crept into my heart and firmly lodged themselves there. They have accepted me into their lives. They loved and nurtured my Vic. I am a punker bunker granny to their children…

Esther, is very outspoken, to the point, honest and an amazing wife and mother. She is loyal to a fault, independent and fiercely protective of her loved ones. Esther is compassionate and unbelievably intelligent. She has a superb sense of humour but very sensitive. She is an amazing person.

Esther nursed her husband through Stage 4 Colon Cancer. She researches nutritional sites for correct and healthy food. She is totally focused on her family and will demolish anyone or anything that threatens them.

Esther was truly the sister Vic always wanted. There were times when things were rough between them. There were differences and some hurt. But…there was a gentle love between the sisters.

Esther popped in to visit Vic almost every day. They texted and BBM’d. They shared war stories about their children. Esther was Vic safety blanket… Esther would lie in bed with Vic and hold her hand. She encouraged and helped. As a pharmacist she was amazing in assisting us with Vic’s meds in the last couple of weeks. As a sister she told Vic to let go; that the boys were safe; that she was loved and would never be forgotten. She told Vic to go towards the light…. Jon-Daniel went to stay with her in the last days of Vic’s life. She was there when Vic left home the last time. She may have been there when Vic stopped breathing – I can’t remember. I know that she sprayed Vic’s favourite perfume on her before Vic left home….

So Esther, if you read this know that I love you deeply. Know that I respect you for the beautiful person you are and for being an amazing mother to my beautiful grandsons. Thank you for the joy you bring in your father’s life. He loves you with an intensity that is scary. When Vic died he cried and said he cannot imagine it being you…that he hoped you would end up on the same cloud one day….

Thank you for loving Vic the way you did. Thank you for comforting her in her hour of need. Thank you for coaching her towards the end of her life. Thank you for loving the boys and having compassionate conversations with them…. You know what I am talking about!

I wish you joy and happiness in the year ahead. I love and admire you.

I want to be an eagle

Photo Credit: http://www.google.co.za/url?sa=i&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&docid=a4HSdquhxAfXUM&tbnid=bvrLKK8OWwZQ2M:&ved=0CAcQjB0wADivAQ&url=http%3A%2F%2Fdaryl-hunter.net%2Fslideshow%2Feagles-nest-idaho-snake-river%2F&ei=UdAjUYbdBO6a1AWewoAQ&psig=AFQjCNHGyZZ71w_6bQPcV6e5EXHslosATg&ust=1361387985127753 — Photo Credit: Google

My late father was pretty advanced in his journey with Alzheimers when I read that AD patients respond well to animals. We got my Dad a little Maltese Poodle and it was love at first sight.

My Dad absolutely adored Tiger. He carried Tiger everywhere and Tiger sat with him, ate with him and slept with him.

One day my Dad and I were chatting and I asked him: “If you could be any animal what would you be?”

I fully expected him to say a Lion – he loved the magnificence of lions…I love eagles. I don’t think Dad quite understood what I was asking and said “You go first…”

“I would want to be an eagle…” I said

“Why?” he asked

“I want to soar high above the sky and experience that total solitude and quiet…” I replied

“Oh” Dad said. “I would want to be this little guy”

Dad did not remember the name of his beloved dog but he knew that the dog was loved, nurtured and spoilt!

I have always equated the turmoil of teenage and parent relationships as an “Eagle” relationship. The following is an extract from a site – http://www.eagleflight.org/cyberstudies/actions-and-attitudes-of-a-growing-church/157-with-eagles-wings. I have changed some of the headings and removed text that is not relevant but basically the content below belongs to http://www.eagleflight.com

Location is very important to the eagle and it’s young. If possible, eagles build their nests on the face of cliffs. They don’t build a nest in a tree unless they absolutely have to, because a nest in a tree can be easily accessed. They don’t build it on the top of the cliff, either, because on the top of a cliff it can be violated, too. Eagles build their nests in some inaccessible place.

The nest is built with consummate skill—not using little twigs, but great branches woven together in an immensely skillful way. If somehow an eagle’s nest is loosed from its moorings and falls, it rarely comes apart. In fact, eagles’ nests are so big, they have weighed in at half a ton! They’re comfortable, too. Their centers are carefully lined with feathers and leaves, and the eggs are placed there. When they hatch, the mother begins the process of feeding the babies.

After the eaglets get to a certain size, or maturity, everything changes! One day the mother eagle comes back from being gone, but this time there’s no food in her beak, and she doesn’t land on the edge of the nest. Instead, she hovers over the nest.

You may not know this, but an eagle can do almost what a hummingbird can do. Even though they are great birds, they can remain almost motionless in midair with those great wings just undulating in the breeze. They do this about three feet above the nest. I’m sure if little eagles could talk to one another—and maybe they can—one would certainly say, “My, what strong wings Mommy has.”

Why does the mother do this? She is demonstrating that those curious appendages on the babies’ backs have a useful function. Eagles, of course, were meant to fly, but they don’t know that. If we take an eagle and separate it at birth from its parents, it will never learn to fly. It will just grovel around in the dirt like a chicken. It might even look up and see eagles soaring overhead and never guess that it was meant to soar in the heavens.

Eagles have to be taught, and that’s the mother’s job. So first she just demonstrates.

The next thing she does is come down into the nest and surprise her young. One can imagine how warm it must normally be for the little eagles to snuggle with their mother and be enshrouded with her feathers, but this time she puts her head up against one of the little ones, and pushes that little one closer and closer to the edge of the nest. (“Hey mom, mom, what are you doing?”)

All at once she pushes the little one out of the nest, and the eaglet falls down the face of the cliff, surely to be destroyed. But not so! In a flash the great mother eagle flies down, catches the little one on her back, and flies up and deposits it in the nest. (“Whew! Mom, that must have been an accident.”) But it wasn’t an accident. The mother bird pushes the little one out again, and again, over and over.

Why would a mother do that to her young? Does she hates the little one? Not at all. It’s just that those little birds were made to fly, and they don’t know it, so she is going to push them out of the nest. She never lets them hit bottom, but she does let them fall, because they have to learn something they don’t know.

The next time the mother bird comes back she decides to clean house, and so she stands on the edge of the nest. The first things to go are the feathers inside; she drops them over the edge. Then the leaves go over the edge—heave ho! While this is going on, she’s not very talkative, either. (“Mom, what are you doing?”) She pays no attention. Since she built the house, she knows how to take it apart.

Next she decides to take the sticks out of the middle of the nest, and with her great strong beak and feet, she’s able to break them off and stand them straight up. (“Mom, it’s not comfortable in here anymore.”) Then she takes certain key sticks out of the nest and throws them over the edge. (“What are you doing, Mom? You are wrecking my room.”)

She seemingly pays no attention to the concerns of her young as she prepares to pull the nest apart, for she is determined that those little ones will fly, and she knows something they don’t. She knows they will never fly as long as they remain in the nest.

That is why teenagers and mothers fight…so they can learn to fly and “escape” home!

We all go through this stage with our teenagers. Most of the time we don’t even realize the process…. But Nature is great and takes over from us.

I was never able to let go of Vic. I wanted her close where I could hear her breathe. The movie “Terms of endearment” shows a mother who walks into the nursery and climbs into the cot to make sure that her baby is breathing. When the baby starts crying she promptly climbs out, marches out and says “That’s better…”

That is the mother I was! I mothered (smothered) my precious baby until her last breath. I do not regret that she never learnt to fly. Hell, she never even learnt to ride a bike!

As a parent we can only do our best. We love and nurture and then we set them free…

I just feel so lost and empty.

Wings of Stone

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!!

Why don’t I just go to sleep and never wake up?

Last year Vic said: “Why don’t I just go to sleep and never wake up?”

This year – today – I am saying “Why don’t I just go to sleep and never wake up?”

Last year Vic said: “My boys don’t need me anymore. I have been sick all my life. Even my ears hurt. ”

On the 8th of January 2013 Vic said “Mommy my room is full of angels…”

Tonight I reread something a friend sent me as a comment https://tersiaburger.wordpress.com/wp-admin/edit-comments.php?p=383&approved=1

Dear Tersia

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.

https://tersiaburger.com/2013/01/08/gramps-was-here/

https://tersiaburger.com/2012/06/17/i-always-pray-for-you-but-you-dont-seem-to-have-a-guardian-angel-17-6-2012/

29 days – Promises Kept

My beautiful Angle Child

Today it was 29 long miserable days since you stopped breathing.

I have continued to breathe, walk, talk, eat, drink tea; I have attended meetings, cried and even laughed. My life has continued yet part of me is dead. I have lost my words today. I just want to have a cup of tea with you. I want to tell you how much I love you and how much I miss you.

Promises Kept

I’ve kept my promise,
of what I would do.
To continue to live,
my life without you.

I get up each morning,
I get through the day
struggling past tears,
every step of the way.

I go on with life with,
a forced happy face.
My heart aches badly,
for what I can’t replace.

I don’t know what to do,
to deaden this pain
It’s so hard, here without you,
where I must remain.

But I will keep my promise
and I must believe,
That you’ll be there waiting,
when it’s my time to leave.
-unknown

So we decided on extra maths…

Today I felt as if I was at the end of my tether. Becoming a mom is a full time job. Maybe I must just adjust to the different routine and responsibilities. Up until a week before her death Vic was responsible for the boys. Sure, I did a lot of running around but Vic was my main responsibility. I was comfortable with our routine of waking, breakfast, showering, meds, nap, wake, lunch …… Vic would push the boys to do homework and their chores.

I hate “moaning”….If the boys needed to be pulled into line I would just whisper in Vic’s ear and she would sort them out. I could “ooch and gooch” and make soothing sounds…. I was the Oumie!!

Now I am the responsible person. The bucket stops with me!

Don’t get me wrong. The boys are amazing human beings. Jared has however started battling with maths and as he wants to study Information Technology, he needs higher grade maths. His maths mark is pathetic and he will never get accepted into a good university with a low maths mark. So we decided on extra maths lessons….

Jon-Daniel wants to study medicine and needs a maths mark in the upper 90’s to be accepted as a medical student. His marks are in the upper 80’s – good but not good enough. So we decided on extra maths lessons….

4.1.2013 Jon-Daniel, Vic and I exactly 2 weeks before Vic died

So the boys need to spend an extra hour and a half, per day, on maths…. They have busy programs! Mondays and Wednesday is archery and cricket. Tuesdays and Fridays extra maths and we try to get to the gym 4 days a week…. Wednesday nights they have to visit their dad.

Long story short – the extra maths is being neglected. Last week my Saudi partner was here and for 8 days we were in back to back meetings from early morning until late at night. I did not mark the maths, but Danie promised to do so! Today to my shock I discovered it had not been done!

I started marking the maths and as I went the angrier I became! I was angry with the slap-dash manner in which the maths had been done. I was angry that I was marking ~@£&~# maths papers and not caring for my child. I was angry with Danie for not doing what he promised to do. I was angry with the boys for not doing their maths properly, but mostly I was angry with Vic. I was angry that she died and that I now have to fulfill her role!

This is not frigging fair. I want our lives back. I want my child back….

It is not really true. I am grateful that her suffering is over. My mind is blocking out the memories of how desperately ill she was. I am remembering the good moments only. I am grateful that I blogged or else I would lose my mind. I read and reread the horror of Vic’s suffering just to wonder “was it really this bad?” I know it was as bad as I am reading if not worse.

Today I join Steven Callahan, someone who can attest to choosing against the odds. Steven Callahan, survived 76 days adrift in a broken boat. He ate barnacles and did yoga, tossed in a leaky boat: “I now have a choice: to pilot myself to a new life or to give up and watch myself die. I choose to kick as long as I can.”

I must kick! I MUST survive! For the boys sake!

Valentine’s Day killing

Tonight, there are two mothers in South Africa who is in more pain than I am. One mother is the mother of a beautiful young model, a law school graduate and an entrepreneur committed to empowering women. Reeva Steenkamp was a celebrity in her own right. Reeva was one of FHM magazine‘s 100 Sexiest Women in the World for two years running, appeared in international and South African advertisements and was a celebrity contestant on Tropika Island of Treasure filmed in Jamaica. She was also the South African face of Avon cosmetics.

Photo credit: http://www.usatoday.com/story/sports/olympics/2013/02/14/reeva-steenkamp-oscar-pistorius-murder/1919001/

The second mother is the mother of Oscar Pistorius. Pistorius made history when he became the first amputee to win a silver medal at the World Athletics Championships in 2011. The following season he secured two more silver medals, in the men’s individual one-lap sprint and the relay event, at the African Athletics Championships in Benin. Pistorius again wrote himself into the history books when he became the first amputee to compete on the track at the able-bodied Olympic Games in August 2012. Pistorius reached the semifinals in the individual 400m event, and also competed in the relay final, with South Africa given a free pass after they were obstructed by the Kenyan team in the heats. A six-time Paralympic Games gold medallist, the Blade Runner holds the men’s 100m, 200m and 400m world records in the T44 disability class.

Photo Credit: http://www.google.co.za/imgres?imgurl=http://images.worldnow.com/AP/images/2193637_G.jpg&imgrefurl=http://www.cbsatlanta.com/story/21193902/pistorius-involved-in-shooting-at-home-woman-dead&h=238&w=360&sz=12&tbnid=aLVESX2boMLwpM:&tbnh=80&tbnw=121&prev=/search%3Fq%3Doscar%2Bpistorius%2Bgirlfriend%26tbm%3Disch%26tbo%3Du&zoom=1&q=oscar+pistorius+girlfriend&usg=__ZkoSVh-KZ6Crr8OVTGPEqy5lBX4=&docid=ncYAlob0NGIuxM&hl=en&sa=X&ei=STQdUaKTCsSJhQeH8YHgAQ&ved=0CEAQ9QEwBA&dur=4471

At this stage it is unclear whether Reeva snuck into Oscar’s home in the early hours of the morning to surprise him on Valentines Day and was mistaken for a burglar or whether she was cold bloodedly shot by her lover.

Oscar, South Africa’s golden son, is in prison tonight. Reeva, one of South Africa’s golden daughters, is lying on a cold slab in a mortuary.

In at least two homes mothers are grieving their children.

Whose loss is the greatest? The mother whose 29-year-old daughter is dead or the mother of the shooter who happens to also be one of the most determined and talented athletes in the world?

I do know I would not change places with either one of them at all! I know my child suffered long and hard and her remains rest in a little wooden box…but her death was honorable, peaceful and “dignified”. Her character will not be assassinated in the press or in a court of law… I do not have to worry whether she will spend the rest of her life in prison, whether she will go to bed with a full tummy, safe from other killers and rapists.

Tonight I will pray for the two mommy’s who both lost their children today.

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The definition of Hatred:-

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