Another birthday…..one year ago

Yesterday I celebrated (another) birthday.

Late Saturday night Vic’s restlessness was indicative that she was determined to be the first to wish me. At 11.30 pm she came through and said “another half hour….. I want to be the first to wish you Mommy. I just want 30 minutes alone with you on your birthday…”

“No problem angel. I’ll switch the kettle on.” I said

“I will be back in a minute” she said

I made coffee and checked some e-mails. At 12:00pm I expected her to come through singing “Happy Birthday” but no Vicky….

I went through to her room and the poor baby had fallen asleep on her bed…

Jon-Daniel came through and brought me a cup of tea on a tray, with a gift and card and a rose! “Happy birthday Oumie” he said.

He had bought a book I have wanted to read for a while “The Elephant Whisperer” – It is an inspiring, true life drama of a herd of wild African elephants on an African game reserve. The herd is destined to be shot for dangerous behaviour when this special human being, Anthony, intervenes to try to save their lives. I was so thrilled that he remembered.

Just before 01:00 am Vic shuffled into my TV lounge.

“Oh Mommy, I am so sorry I fell asleep. I thought I would just close my eyes for 5 minutes whilst you make the coffee…”

We sat and chatted for a while. Vic shared her good wishes with me and we just sat and spoke. We spoke about our very special mother-daughter relationship. We spoke about years gone by and how blessed we are to have this time together. (I cannot imagine Vic married and living in someone else’s home on her final journey.)

The girls, Esther and Lani, arrived at 10:00am with gifts, a cooked meal, dessert and cake. The grandchildren set the table… My sister Lorraine and dear friend Judy arrived bearing armloads of gifts. The grandchildren had written me letters and cards – it was so special. Vic bravely cooked a pot of rice and had lunch with the family. All the grandchildren swam and played tug-a-war! We laughed and joked.

It was a perfect day.

Esther and Lani planned the day to start early whilst Vic is at her best. As the day progresses so her energy levels decrease. Immediately after lunch Vic went to bed. She was in so much pain and absolutely exhausted.

All the grandchildren wanted to stay.

Sunday evening we Skyped my son and his family in the UK. Vic and Danie spoke. Vic and Danie Jnr have a special bond.

Twenty two years ago I married Danie Sr and his four children; Esther 23, Lani 18, Liza 16 and Danie 11… Danie married me and one, sick, very protected, spoilt brat, Vicky, aged 16. Vic and Danie Jnr were the two kids who lived with us. Vic embraced her new family. (I was petrified of the children!)

Vic’s siblings have been amazing over the years. I could never have coped as well as I do if it was not for their love, support and encouragement. The siblings are fiercely protective of their little sister.

Vic and Danie Jnr spoke for at least 10 minutes last night. It was a sad conversation between a brother and his older, little sister.

“I miss you so much Little Brother” Vic said

“I miss you too Vic. How are you feeling?” Jnr asked

“I am battling Boetie (Little Brother) Vic said

“We are coming to visit in April then I will see you Vic”

“I don’t know if I am going to make it to April” Vic said

“Just hang in there Vic. It is not that long to April…” Jnr consoled her

“I know but I am tired. I am just missing you” Vic cried

“I will fly over for a weekend. I want to see you again” Danie promised

Vic was so tired last night. Her little body cannot handle parties anymore. She tries so hard. This weekend we will have Jared’s 16th birthday. It is only his birthday on the 26th but most of his friends are away for Christmas so we have his friend party an early in December.

I know this will more than likely be another last for Vic.

Godliness of a mother

“The woman who creates and sustains a home and under whose hands children grow up to be strong pure men and women, is a creator second only to God” Helen Marta Fiske Hunt Jackson

Vic raised two magnificent young men. They have beautiful manners, they are respectful to their elders and especially women. They are gentle, compassionate and like their mom they speak badly of no one. They have a wonderful set of values and morals.

Vic had so little time to raise her boys. She spent most of their lives in a hospital bed or in bed at home. The boys grew up doing their homework in her room, helping her cook… Jared was four years old when he made his (and his brothers) bed. “Because Mommy’s back is sore”…

The boys are old souls. They have witnessed so much pain and suffering… They have lived with, and cared for, a dying mother.

There was almost a Godliness to the way Vic raised her boys. Vic taught the boys to love their Lord. It shows in their pure hearts. Her legacy lives on through and in her boys.

I am so proud of you my Angle Child. You did good!

A mother’s hand…. Day 4 of 48

A mother’s hand brushes hair from your eyes, tears from your cheek, hurt from your heart. Lauren Benson

We need a miracle again….

I posted this a year ago. We never did get the miracle we needed.

Vic's Final Journey

Sr Siza examined Vic today. She phoned Dr Sue who will be in tomorrow morning. She also brought a script with for Dalacin antibiotics. The cellulitis has spread to all three the subcutaneous sites.

Siza expressed her concern at Vic’s decline…

Last Friday Danie, my husband, came and sat next to me and said “I know everyone says it will be better for Vic to die than live in this pain but I was thinking how hard it will be for us without her…”

That statement really shook me. Up until now death has been a hypothetical issue… Doctors diagnoses and prognosis…predictions… I have never really considered living without my child.

Last week Siza and I met with the CEO of Amcare, a large community project that provide community based feeding schemes, HIV/AIDS Counselling, Home-based care, skills development, ARV Clinic, women and children shelters. We are hoping that they…

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Mom’s Hugs

“Mom’s hugs are like peanut butter and jelly sandwiches – they’re sweet and they stick with you a long time.” Anonymous

Vic would hug and hold… I hug and release….

Vic once told me I am a lousy hugger. It was said in jest, but I know that Vic loved hugging for that extra couple of seconds (or minutes). She loved feeling loved and treasured.

Vic taught her boys to hug. She taught them to say “I love you”.

Vic raised "huggers". I am so grateful! — Vic raised “huggers”. I am so grateful!

Image (197) — Vic and I always hugged and held hands.

Image (209) — Vic hugging her precious son…

Image (221) — A precious moment between Vic and Jon-Daniel

Untitled-17_edited — We come from a family of huggers. Here my Dad and Vic are hugging.

Vic’s love was like a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. It left a wonderful aftertaste and stuck for a long time.

Love you baby girl.

Motherhood – Day 2 of 48

“Motherhood: All love begins and ends there.” Robert Browning

Vic was born to be a mommy. As a toddler she would “discuss” her babies names with me….

“What are you going to be when you grow up Sweetie?” I would ask

“A mommy” she would reply

There were no if’s or but’s about it as far as she was concerned. She started “designing” her wedding dress and planning her family at the age of three. Vic had no ambitions of ever becoming a doctor, lawyer or politician…She only ever wanted to be a Mommy. Vic had no half-measures in life. Whatever she did she did with passion…

She loved and lived passionately.

She revelled in the joy of motherhood. Vic was a passionate mother. Over protective, caring, loving…

Motherhood took a terrible toll on her body. Not once did she regret her decision to have the boys – despite the price she paid.

For you MOM…because I love you

Mothers Day 2011, I received a wonderful book from Vic. The title of the book “For you MOM…because I love you”

I will post a quote from this book, every day, until the 18th of January 2014, when it is Vic’s one-year anniversary.

“The loveliest masterpiece of the heart of God, is the heart of a mother.” Saint Theresa of Lisieiux

Two mothers with their child(ren)

Badge of honour

It is the silly season. The season of madness. It’s the time for holiday merriment with its relentlessly upbeat expectations, sometimes forced, especially for those of us grieving the loss of a loved one.

No matter where I or what I am doing, there is always one thought that is in the forefront of my mind: “My child is dead”. That thought can never be erased. It has become a part of my soul.

I sense an impatience in some people for me to “get over it”, “put it in the past”, “stop dwelling on your loss”, or “move forward”

Yes, I have moved forward, but I can never forget. There is an aching in my soul and a hole in my heart. There is always a part of me that is always aware that “my child is dead.” I will never be complete again. Nothing or no one can fill the place my child had in my life and heart!

Like a drowning person I am grabbing onto symbolic things – an angel garden, burning candles, a memorial light in a tree of remembrance, a Hospice….. These symbolic things simultaneously provides solace, searing pain and anger.

On Friday night the Tree of Remembrance was lit at the premises where our Hospice building is. I was filled with such immense sadness that I was unable to contain my tears. I know that I was not the only one moved by the lighting of the tree. I was flanked by a dear friend who lost her husband nine months ago and a colleague who lost her mother a year ago. Gentle tears ran down their cheeks. Jared, my eldest grandson who stood behind me, put his arms around me and whispered “I miss Mommy too…”

Many bereaved people will pretend this is just another holiday season. It isn’t. I refuse to pretend that it is.

This will be my first birthday, our first Christmas, Jared’s 17^th birthday and New Year without Vic. My birthday I hope to ignore. Christmas Eve we will spend at Lani’s house with a lot of people we don’t know. I know there will be no room for thought. There will be a lot of food, gifts, talking, laughing…. Christmas Day I will go to a squatter camp with Reuben and the children in his church. We will provide the poor with a meal. Jared’s birthday – we will all make a huge effort to make special… New Year’s I will remember knowing last year that Vic was dying. That it was her last New Year.

Dick Lumaghi, bereavement coordinator for Hospice of Ukiah says “The depth of a grief is exactly proportional to the depth of attachment; from one perspective, a deep grief is a badge of honour, a big love between two people.”

I do wear my grief as a badge of honour. My precious child was gentle, kind, compassionate, beautiful, loyal and loving. She earned every tear I have ever shed. She earned ever tear I will ever shed. I wish people would understand that it’s total impossible for me to “get over it”, “put this in the past”, “stop dwelling on your loss”, or “move forward”.

I love my child. I miss my child. I want my child home with me.

Mommy can you feel how sore it is?

I posted this a year ago.

I still remember my precious child’s eyes. Old, wise eyes filled with pain and fear. I remember the unrelenting nausea and excruciating pain. I remember my beautiful child’s desperate fight to live.

I remember her holding my hand, her tears silently running down her cheeks… The fear in my heart that her suffering would never end.

Now I wish I could hold her one more time; wipe her precious tears away; whispering “I love you angel child”

Hospice has just fitted a subcutaneous driver – again. Vic’s pain has spiralled out of control over the past couple of days.

Vic was in absolute excruciating pain during the night. She battled to breath.

“Help me Mommy! I can’t stand the pain anymore…”

I lay next to her and put constant pressure on the area that hurt most. It was just below her ribcage – liver. “Oh Mommy, it is so sore. Can you feel how sore it is?

As a little girl Vic used to believe that I could “feel” her pain…

“Feel how sore my toe is Mommy…”

As I lay there with my hand on her “sore” I wished with every fibre in my body that I could lay my hand on her sick body and soak up the pain and disease. It cannot be so I look for a new spot on her bum to stick in a needle.

Vic seems calm now and the pain under control. She is sleeping peacefully. She has not vomited since this morning and managed to have a sandwich for lunch.

Please God let the subcutaneous driver work. Please let the tissue hold up! Please God!

I know that you are with me. Feel my love Angel Child. See my heart. Know my heart. Love you yesterday, today and forever. Mommy

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.

Category: Death of a child

Another birthday…..one year ago

Yesterday I celebrated (another) birthday.

Godliness of a mother

A mother’s hand…. Day 4 of 48

We need a miracle again….

Mom’s Hugs

Motherhood – Day 2 of 48

For you MOM…because I love you

Badge of honour

Mommy can you feel how sore it is?

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Mother and Child Reunion

They say there is a reason…

The Locket

The Vicky Bruce Dignity Room

A mother’s loss…

To God