Grief – Vic's Final Journey

Pendulum of grief – 7 years

It has been 2555 days since my beautiful child succumbed to her horrific illness. It has been 6 years, 11 months, 30 days. I have been swinging on a pendulum of grief and recovery for the past 84 months. It has been an ongoing battle to balance the pain and guilt of outliving my child with the desire to honour her final wish.

Dr Colin Murray Parker said “Grief is the price we pay for love”

How true!

My love for my child will never die. I will never forget my child.

As I live in the past I continuously remember (some long-forgotten) things. I remember her baby softness, her toddler cuteness, her primary school years when she developed a sense of humour, her defiant teenage years. I remember Vic falling in love with Colin, getting married and falling pregnant 6 weeks later. I remember the gentle, beautiful mommy she was to her boys. I remember her fierce love for her boys. I remember her descent into ill health. I remember her last days. I remember her last breath.

I feel compelled to say the following to those of you blessed with healthy and living children. As you love your living children I love my child. Unconditionally and every second of the day. I too want to talk about my child… Just as you do. When you talk about your child and his or her achievements I don’t squirm in my chair. When I talking about my child you try and change the subject. I have heard a friend say “I have heard the story before “and walk away from the group. If I repeat a story it’s because I don’t have new memories. I only have old memories to hold on and repeat. Your discomfort doesn’t make my child matter less.

Vic’s life was cut short.

Not my love for her.

I will grieve for a lifetime. I will never “get over it”. My love for Vicky will last for the rest of my life. Every milestone in my grandsons lives remind me of our loss. Milestone birthdays, Jared’s wedding and now Kirsten’s pregnancy. Jon-Daniel graduating at the end of the year… Yet I have experienced joy. I have hugged and wiped tears from the eyes of other bereaved parents. I have been filled with pride for my precious child’s brave and selfless journey through life and death. I look at the boys and am filled with pride for the young men they are. I remember with pride what a wonderful mommy Vicky was. I am filled with sadness that Vic will never have the privilege of holding her first grandson.

Tonight, as the pendulum swings back I once again descend into this intense state of grief. Tomorrow morning at 10:35 it will be 7 years since Vic stopped breathing.

Today I allowed myself silence and unchecked tears. Next week I will continue to honour my child’s life by fulfilling her final wish. Rest in peace my precious, beautiful child. You will forever be in my heart. I will never forget.

Messages from Heaven – 2

When I wrote my last blog, https://tersiaburger.com/2019/10/15/messages-from-heaven-1/ I realised that it would have to be a “series” of Messages from Heaven. So, here goes …Messages from Heaven – 2. Again, this post should, however, have been the first.

Vic and I often spoke about life after death. We often, stoically, discussed ways of communicating after “the event”. We agreed that the bed and bathroom would be off-limits.

We both believed that there would be a way.

Vic often, as a Convent Girl, expressed her fear that her pain would not end with her death. I was responsible for administering huge amounts of drugs to her during the last months of her life. Whilst the medication was prescribed by a Palliative Care doctor, I was not a medical person and feared this part of caring for her. I dreaded sticking needles into my child’s little body. The medication took her pain away but did I kill her???

After Vic died I washed her little body and dressed her in her warmest pj’s. I put her warmest woolly socks on her feet.

I whispered “Vic, you have to give me a sign… You have to let me know that you are okay”

“Vic, you know Mommy is a blond. You have to give me a clear sign. A very clear sign”

After the Memorial Service, we carried Vic’s coffin to the hearse. It was heart-wrenching carrying our brave little warrior knowing that this is it….

The Minister quoted from Ecclesiastes 3:20 “…all are from the dust, and all return to dust.” and in Ecclesiastes 12:7 the Bible said, “Then the dust will return to the earth as it was, And the spirit will return to God who gave it.”

We said our finals goodbyes.

We stood back and the undertaker secured the coffin with “coffin clasps”. He pressed a button and the rear door of the hearse slowly closed…and, opened. Very apologetically he resecured the clasps and again pressed the button to close the rear door. It slowly closed and…opened.

“Vic’s here. She is going nowhere” I said to nervous giggles of family and friends.

A very embarrassed undertaker apologised and again he fiddled with the coffin and the clasps. The third time he pushed the button the door closed.

Vic had sent me a message, loud and clear, she was okay!

To the Living, I am gone,
To the sorrowful, I will never return;

To the angry, I was cheated.
But to the happy, I am at peace.
To the faithful, I have never left.
Talk to me, and I will hear,
your prayers, they comfort me,
your laughter makes me laugh,
but don’t weep for me as I have my reward,
I am with the Father and he will never let me perish,
The Lord comforts me and longs to comfort you.
So be happy my family and don’t despair,
I am in good hands, waiting for the day when
the Lord calls you to come home.

–Anonymous Continue reading Messages from Heaven – 2

Messages from Heaven – 1

On the 24^th of August, Vic’s eldest son married the love of his life. The morning before the wedding, he stood talking on his cell phone when out of the blue a little white feather stuck to the screen of his phone… Vic communicates with us through feathers. This was his message from Heaven

Planning a wedding where the bride is surrounded by loving parents whilst the groom had lost both parents is hard. Keeping the balance between remembering and hoping, missing and embracing is hard. Kirsten was sensitive to Jared’s feelings and I am grateful to her for this.

Jared did not want his parents absence to overwhelm the day but he wanted to honour his them. They decided on photographs in front of the Church

I was filled with sadness knowing how desperately Colin and Vicky would have wanted to be there. I know how desperately Jared wanted his parents at his wedding… Positioned to the left of the bridal couple, there was a table with three photographs. There was a photograph of Colin, Jared’s dad. The second photograph was of Vicky and was placed in the middle. The third photograph was of Kirsten’s grandfather.

During the service, with a loud bang, Vic’s photograph fell over… I smiled and looked at my husband acknowledging Vic’s presence. The photographer picked up the photograph and positioned it properly. Five minutes later a huge bang… Vic’s photograph had fallen over…again. This time the photographer was busy snapping away and Kirsten’s one bridesmaid picked up the photograph and firmly positioned it on the table.

I KNEW Vic was there and making her presence known.

I was mesmerised by the photograph. In my mind, I said, “Vic, if you are here your photograph will fall over again…” The photograph started moving forward and fell over…

Vic was at her boy’s wedding.

The wedding was beautiful and filled with love, hope and tomorrows

Everyone remembered Vic and Colin in their speeches. Some tears fell but it was a day filled with tomorrow. The mother and son dance was heartbreaking. Jared and I cried. Vicky should have been there in her son’s arms dancing to I’ll be Around

https://youtu.be/CsY07KFALa

God speed Jared and Kirsten. We are so happy for you. It was a beautiful wedding and know that your guardian angels were there witnessing your vows and joy

5 years, 3 months and 3 days

Five years, 3 months and three days ago I lay next to you listening to your labored breathing. You lay motionless in your bed. Your hands and feet were ice-cold. Your body was burning up with fever. Daddy and I counting the seconds between your breaths. My hand on your little heart and my head next to yours.

I remember whispering how much I love you; that there was nothing to be scared of…I felt your heart beat getting weaker and weaker; your breathing becoming more shallow by the minute.

When your little heart stopped beating my heart broke into a million pieces. As your soul soared mine plummeted into a hellhole of grief and despair.

I knew that it would be hard but nothing in the world could have prepared me for the pain that followed. My heart aches for you and I would give anything to hold you one more time. To hear that mischievous giggle…

Never again will I hear that sacred word “Mommy” …

We miss you so much. Our family will never be the same again.

“To plant a garden is to believe in tomorrow”

“Who wants to die? Everything struggles to live. Look at that tree growing up there out of that grating. It gets no sun, and water only when it rains. It’s growing out of sour earth. And it’s strong because its hard struggle to live is making it strong. My children will be strong that way.” ― Betty Smith, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn

I spent the weekend packing up Vic’s flat and working in the garden. I bought new herbs for my herb garden. I changed the outlay (or started) of the back garden.

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This year may be easy or it may be a struggle. I know that there will be days of profound sadness but I also know that my sadness will be put to good use. I believe that, by putting my grief to work, I will find a way to get through my sad day.

In the words of Robert Frost – “In three words I can describe everything I’ve learnt about life. It goes on. Despite our fears and worries, life continues”

My “profound sad days” will remind me why there is a Stepping Stone Hospice and why I do, what I do, at Stepping Stone Hospice.

I do believe in tomorrow.

I do believe that this will be a year of healing.

I do believe that it will be a year of recovery – at every level.

1423 days

Boys lying with Vic before Chris' arrival

I have survived 1423 days (3 years, 10 months, 23 days) without my beloved child.

It has become easier. I am used to the pain. I am at peace with the fact that my child’s suffering is over. I honor her memory every day of my life. Every day, when I walk through the In-Patient-Unit of Stepping Stone Hospice I thank her for her selfless request that “no-one should suffer the way she did”.

Families talk to me about my brave little warrior and thank me. Thank me? I don’t think so. I would never have had the guts to start a Hospice. I would still be lying in my bed grieving.

Life has been hard without Vic. It was so difficult getting my life back on track after she died. I have missed her wisdom and guidance with the boys, I have resented the fact that I have become a backup mother to my precious grandsons. I wanted to be a mother and a grandmother. I hated being a bereaved mother. I still do.

Our lives have settled. Until May this year.

On the 31st of May, I received a phone call from Jared (eldest grandson) to tell me his father had died. I was filled with terror, heartache, and fear. My go-to person was no longer around to advise me and run interference with the boys.

I was in England at the time of Colin’s death. I flew back the same afternoon. All I can remember of the flight was how my face ached from crying. I was heartbroken leaving my little UK granddaughters behind. They sobbed. I sobbed. We all sobbed. I dreaded arriving in South Africa and facing the boys’ heartache. I was consumed with guilt that I wasn’t with them on that horrible day.

I arrived in South Africa to meet two dazed young men. I had to go and identify Colin at the mortuary and once again arrange the funeral of a child.

On the surface, the boys were brave and yet so devastated. I was heartbroken. At a certain level, Colin’s funeral was more difficult than Vic’s. Colin was young and healthy. He had truly connected with the boys and they loved spending time with him and his new family to be. They loved being part of a family. Vic had been ill for so many years and her suffering inhuman. I was relieved that her suffering was over.

But Colin was so young and alive. He had so much to live for. So much to give. He was at peace with his life and in love with a wonderful woman.

The day Colin’s clothes were brought into Stepping Stone Hospice, as a donation, I had a total meltdown. It was the second time a child of mine’s clothes were donated to Hospice.

Yet, time passed and I am once again getting used to the pain. That horrible empty feeling in your heart when you suffer a great loss…

I read many blogs and I often wondered why people remained stuck in their grief. I wondered why they were unable to move forward…

Vic’s eldest son started displaying signs of PTS (Post-traumatic stress). He suffers from panic attacks and stopped wanting to be home. He was angry with the world and especially me.

There are many reasons for this and it is not for me to write about his reasons.

What I am able to write about is the fact that Jared was trying so hard to protect his little brother and I from the pain and trauma of Vic’s death that he never dealt with it for himself. He spread his angel wings over us and never stopped looking to see whether we are okay or not.

Now this beautiful, “parentified” young man is caught up in a cycle of trying to deal with the layers of grief resulting from his parents’ deaths. He is working so hard to learn how to deal with his complicated/compound grief. He is brave and beautiful. He is in so much pain.

But, I know that in time he will heal. He is no longer avoiding his grief. He is dealing with the cancer in his heart eating away at the very grain of his soul.

I pray that I will have the wisdom to guide him through this difficult time in his life as he guided his brother and me through the first years after Vic’s passing. I pray that he will always remember my love for him. I pray that I will learn to cope with my guilt of not protecting him from something that I was aware of…

I now know why people remain locked into that cycle of grief.

https://tersiaburger.com/2012/06/30/a-mothers-love-for-her-sons/

Vic succeeded at life…

Vic often said “I must be such a disappointment to you. I have done nothing with my life!”

This morning I read these beautiful words and so wished I could have shared it with Vic.

“This is to have succeeded” posted on June 4, 2013 by Dr Bill http://drbillwooten.com/2013/06/04/this-is-to-have-succeeded

“To laugh often and love much; to win the respect of intelligent persons and the affection of children; to earn the approbation of honest citizens and endure the betrayal of false friends; to appreciate beauty; to find the best in others; to give of one’s self; to leave the world a bit better, whether by a healthy child, a garden patch or a redeemed social condition; to have played and laughed with enthusiasm and sung with exultation; to know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived—this is to have succeeded.” ~ Bessie Anderson Stanley

To laugh often and love much – That Vic did. She always had a smile on her precious face. Even when she was in dreadful pain she would try to smile. When she was in a lot of pain her laugh was shrill. Pain seldom stopped her from laughing… In 2007 I said to Vic that my life was sad.

“That is terrible Mommy. Why?”

I felt like hitting my head against a wall! What did the child think? In 2007 Vic must have had 18 operations; developed every hospital superbug in the book; developed septicaemia, had a high output fistula; developed Acute Respiratory Distress Syndrome; spend months in ICU and survived having the ventilator turned off… Vic was op TPN (Total Parental Nutrition) for months…she had a massive open wound that we could not keep covered with a colostomy bag. It was too big and positioned very low down.

“I worry about you every second of the day baby. I worry whether you have vomited and how much you vomited; I worry whether you have been able to eat anything… I worry about your wound. I worry about your pain control….”

“Mommy, that is so sad. At least once a week the boys and I laugh so much that my tummy hurts from it…”

so sick

Vic in 2007

Vic loved unconditionally and with every fibre of her body. She gave everything! She was a wonderful daughter, mother, friend…She loved her family, her siblings, her friends and her boys. She LIVED love.

Her last words ever were “I love you Mommy”

Image (172)

… to win the respect of intelligent persons and the affection of children; Worldwide, intelligent people, respected and admired Vic for her courage, tenacity… We called Vic the “baby whisperer”. Children loved her. She loved children. Her only ambition as a toddler and teenager was to be a Mommy. She loved her sons beyond comprehension…

Vic and her boys.

The Baby Whisperer

…… to earn the approbation of honest citizens and endure the betrayal of false friends; Vic suffered a lot of betrayal in her little life. People got tired of waiting for her to die. “Friends” spoke about her “addiction” to pain medication behind her back… They used her illness as a weapon against her when she was at her most vulnerable. False friends (and loved ones) spoke their “minds” and condemned and judged Vic for choices she made… Because she was ill people thought they could say what they wanted, when they wanted.

….. to appreciate beauty; to find the best in others; My precious child was so naïve. She refused to see the bad in people! The only time she got irritated and miserable was in hospital. She always found the good in people. She did not speak badly of people. When I was angry with someone she would placate me…point out their good points… She knew that if she voiced her own anger it would have driven me over the edge. Vic taught me unconditional love, forgiveness and tolerance. Vic brought out the best in me and the most other people.

…..to give of one’s self; Vic was a people pleaser. She would turn down MY bed!!!! She made sacrifices for each and every person in her life. Even in death she worried about other dying people who were less privileged than she was. I promised her at 2 am on the 16^th of November 2012, a mere 2 months and 2 days before she died, that I would start Stepping Stone Hospice! She kept talking to me about Stepping Stone until she lapsed into a coma. We started on the 1^st of January 2013 and Vic died on the 18^th of January. Our first patient. Our first death.

…..to leave the world a bit better, whether by a healthy child, a garden patch or a redeemed social condition; Vic left the world a better place. Her sons are monuments of the person she was; her dream of a Hospice has been realized.

Vic’s monuments…

……to have played and laughed with enthusiasm and sung with exultation; With the 2010 Soccer World Cup Vic went crazy with enthusiasm; she bought every gimmick that hit the shops; she went of the “soccer train” in her wheelchair, she watched every single soccer game.

Vic loving World Cup 2010

……to know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived Vic’s legacy will live on through her sons and Stepping Stone Hospice. Long after I have died, people will continue to benefit from Vic’s dreams and goodness.

—this is to have succeeded.” My angel child – you succeeded! You succeeded in life and with living. You made the world a beautiful place filled with goodness and hope. I am so proud of you. You lived life to the full. You made a difference! You lived a greater and more successful life than most people. You have put the world to shame. You are my hero!

https://tersiaburger.com/2012/10/16/and-the-winner-is/

https://tersiaburger.com/2012/06/09/9-6-2012/

https://wordpress.com/post/36185300/3015/

http://download.springer.com/static/pdf/71/art%253A10.1186%252Fcc11867.pdf?originUrl=http%3A%2F%2Flink.springer.com%2Farticle%2F10.1186%2Fcc11867&token2=exp=1461937379~acl=%2Fstatic%2Fpdf%2F71%2Fart%25253A10.1186%25252Fcc11867.pdf%3ForiginUrl%3Dhttp%253A%252F%252Flink.springer.com%252Farticle%252F10.1186%252Fcc11867*~hmac=08ff3ff972d6f80826a88836b665cace297a3e6feae8c461089cc821104e11fb

http://www.anaesthesiauk.com/documents/ards.pdf

http://www.nejm.org/doi/pdf/10.1056/nejm200005043421806

Ebb and flow of grief…

How do we deal with life’s losses and move forward? People far wiser than I am, said that we never do get back to normal. That a time of numbness, confusion and uncertainty eventually merges into a new “normal”.

I am often filled with profound sadness over what will never be. Vic will never see her boys graduate. She will never have that mother and son dance at their weddings. She will never know the joy of being a grandparent.

Jared and I were chatting the other evening and he said “Most of the time I bury my sorrow. I try not to think how much I miss Mummy. But sometimes when I lie in bed the tears just start…”

I told him how guilty I feel because at first, in a perverse way, I enjoyed the freedom of snap decisions to go away for a weekend or dinner without having to make elaborate plans for Vic’s care.

The house is too big … too empty … too quiet. How can one tiny little person leave such a humongous void?

Are we moving forward? Yes, I believe we are. We are healing very slowly. We are functioning well in the “other” world. That world that has no understanding of our world. The boys are both excelling in their studies. They have lovely friends. They have good lives. But, they do not have their Mummy. It breaks my heart thinking how deprived they are of maturing under the loving care of their mother.

I read once that healing is a journey, not a destination or a point in time. I know we are scarred. When we light candles for my beautiful baby girl I know that grief will remain a part of our lives forever. But we will go with the ebb and flow of our grief – it is part of our journeys.

Navigating the Ebb and Flow of Grief Posted on June 28, 2013 by Maria Kubitz

Grief is fickle. Unpredictable. And indifferent to whatever mood I’m in. Most days my grief lies dormant under the activities of everyday life. Little triggers will continually remind me its there. A sad news story on the TV. A girl at the park who reminds me of my daughter. But I can go about my regular routines with no interruptions. Other times, the triggers are bigger, and the grief bubbles up and takes over my mood. Tears well up behind my eyes, ready to release at the first opportunity. My patience seems to evaporate and everyday tasks become cumbersome, meaningless, and even difficult. Usually the bursts of grief from larger triggers only last a few hours or at most a few days.

But sometimes it lingers and grows.

What I didn’t expect is that even coming on four years after her death, I still find myself in situations where grief becomes so overwhelming again that it feels like I’ve gone right back to the debilitating early days of grief. Feelings of sadness, pain, lethargy, dis-interest in things I normally enjoy. Going to work becomes a struggle. Even taking care of my kids feels like a burden. I know these periods require extra attention and care, and I navigate through the best I can, asking for support along the way. I just wonder if these episodes will ease over time, or if I should just expect them to become a permanent fixture of my “new normal” life?

If the death of my daughter has taught me anything — and it has taught me A LOT — it has taught me that we have more inner strength than we can ever imagine, and that with time, attention, and support, we can navigate through just about anything life might throw at us.

850 days

It is a mere 850 days since Vic died. 2 years and 4 months seems so short… 850 days seems far more representative of the longing. It seems “longer”….

I woke up this morning with tears pouring down my cheeks. I so longed to hold my child. I know that the boys remembered too. Jon-Daniel posted on his Facebook “Appreciate your Mom, tell her you love her, make her smile – because the only time she ever smiled while you were crying was when you were born!” The first to “like” his post was his brother.

I imagined that the longing would get better. It doesn’t!

At first it felt as if I was overseas – away from the trauma of Vic being ill. I always felt guilty at the “reprieves” I had when I was travelling for work. Now I would give anything and everything for just an extra minute with my child.

It was hard standing next to Vic’s bed hearing her cries of pain. It was even harder seeing the despair in the eyes of her precious boys when they stood next to their mom’s bed helpless to ease her pain and fears.

So often over the years I wanted to run away. In the end, when Vic cried from fear of dying, I felt the need to put an end to her suffering well up in me. I put my hands over my ears and screamed in my head.

Vic and her Dad — “Don’t leave me Daddy! I am scared!”

How do you answer your child when she cries “I am so scared”?

We have a patient at Hospice who vocalises her fear the way Vic did. Today I just held her. How do you still the fear of the unknown in a dying person? And NO!!!! It has nothing to do with religion. Everybody is scared.

From that dreaded moment when a patient is told they are terminally ill an avalanche of shock and fear hits them. It is called actually “named” – terminal fear. Vic (and Elizabeth*) fear dying, pain, saying goodbye, loss of control and mostly all-encompassing the fear of the unknown.

Vic’s overwhelming fear was that people would forget her – that she would be replaced…. Vic questioned her life’s worth. She did not work and in her mind that meant it that she had not achieved anything. That she would leave no legacy. No matter how many times we reassured her that she inspired hundreds of people worldwide, the fear never left. I hope that she now knows how powerful her legacy is! That hundreds of patients have benefitted from her death wish and, most importantly, that her sons are her true legacy.

I have witnessed that grieving starts the moment of handing down the sentence. It is a long and hard journey for the dying person, their loved ones and friends.

And, today that Elizabeth’s* fear rests heavy on my heart, I know that we will provide her a safe haven where she can relax into death. We will hold her hand and guide her family through this dreadful trauma of saying goodbye to a wife, mother, grandmother and friend.

I pray for wisdom and strength to handle the déjà vu of Elizabeth’s* final journey.

My soul mourns my child

This post has been sitting in my Drafts since the 23 of November 2014. This morning I was told that my grieving is isolating me from the world… So be it. I lost my child and she deserves to be mourned. If people cannot cope they must simply just stay out of my life. I will not invade theirs… So if I offend someone it is tough. Once you have walked my journey you are welcome to criticise. Remember to hug your children – I never thought Vic would die. Shit happens.

It is 671 days since Vic died.

I have not blogged in a while. I stopped because I felt too exposed. People were reading my blog and “using” my emotions against me. My public grief became a weapon to be used in dealing with me.

I have received a number of emails from some of my blogger friends asking me whether I have started a new blog. I haven’t. I have missed blogging.

Blogging to me provides me access to a network of people who have experienced the loss of a child. If one has not lost a child you will never understand the pain thereof. It is grief that no one can begin to understand. I read other mothers blogs and their words are my words.

We have had a number of milestones.

I have thrown myself into Stepping Stone Hospice. I have grown as a person. My heart has been broken by the deaths of precious patients’ and the pain of their families. I have made new friends only to lose them weeks later. I have stood next to close on a 100 death beds this year.

Jon-Daniel turned 16. Vic left a box of party goods to be used for his 16^th birthday. I opened the box, for the 1^st time after her death, and found the polystyrene “Happy 16^th birthday” lettering; party poppers, balloons. Vic was always very set on being fair. What she did for the one she would do for the other. She set up Jared’s 16^th birthday party. She left the same for her baby.….. A final act of love for her precious son.

There are no further birthday boxes prepared for the boys. She has left 18^th and 21^st birthday gifts; Jon-Daniels confirmation candles and their 21^st keys. But no further party goods.

On the 17^th of October 2014 Jared attended his Matric Farewell (prom). Exactly 22 years after Vic’s Matric Farewell. He wrote on his Facebook that it was hard to be excited about

He was so handsome and his little girlfriend looked beautiful. Vic would have been so proud of her son! I know that she was there but I also know that Jared would have given anything to have her physically presence…. He would have wanted her to straighten his bow tie and flaff with his hair. She would have cried and insisted on 100’s of photos.

I vividly remembered Vic’s farewell and how exquisitely beautiful she looked. I remembered how careful I was when I helped her dress because her skin marked so easily and we did not want red marks spoiling the evening for her. I remembered her and Gia giggling whilst they were getting ready for the Big Event. I remembered my pride looking at my little princess…

I slept very badly that evening because I actually remember that his mommy was very hung-over the morning after her farewell…. He arrived home in the early hours of the morning and he was sober! I could not have been prouder.

Now Jared is writing his school exams. I remember how I fought with Vic to study hard and get her marks up. I remember the frustration of knowing that Vic was not performing to her ability. She only did enough to pass comfortably. I realized then that all she ever wanted to be was a mommy. It was hard to accept. The dreams that I had for her were exactly that – my dreams.

Vic had no ambition to become a doctor or an advocate or even politician. She started thinking up her children’s names when she was 4 or 5 years old. When she was old enough to draw she “designed” her wedding gown. It was hard to accept.

Vic and I were so opposite to one another. I am ambitious and driven. Vic was content to live…

So, here I am on my knees again hoping and praying that Jared’s marks will be good enough for him to gain university entrance. I gave him the letter Vic wrote him…the letter to be given to him just before his final school exams. I was petrified that it would upset him and affect his mental state adversely. He was thrilled and quietly said that it was so nice getting a letter from her and being able to read her words. He said that he missed her little notes… and her hugs.

When I heard his words I felt his pain and loss all over again.

As time passes it is becoming more difficult. Maybe because people are “fed-up” with my grieving. They are impatient with me and want me to forget and accept. They become frustrated because I try and find every excuse to mention Vic’s name. Their empathy has switched to impatience.

And, I don’t care!

My soul is grieving for Vic. The pain has travelled so much further than my heart. It has filled my body and soul to the core. I want my child back. I want to hear her laugh. I want to see her smile. I want to feel her hugs. I want to hear her voice. I want to be a mommy again. I want to be a grandmother again. I want my life back.

Time to say goodbye

Time to say Goodbye is a beautiful song and I especially enjoy the André Bochelli and Sarah Brightman version. It was the boys and my theme song on this holiday. A Time to Say Goodbye and heal….

As we toured Europe we lived Vic’s dream. It was her dream to go to Italy, stand in the Cistern Chapel, drink cuppachino’s on the streets of Rome, wander through the Christmas Mart stalls savouring the smell of Gluhwein and melted cheese….

I am filled with profound sadness every time I think of my child. Even if she lived Vic would never have been able to make the trip. The flight would have been too long, the cobblestone streets impossible for her wheelchair, the bus trips too long…

I cried when I saw the Pietà in the Cistern Chapel. This beautiful piece of art in a convoluted way symbolised Vic and my lives…

Both Mary and I were child brides. She was much younger than I was when she gave birth to Jesus – it is written that Mary was 12 years old at the time of her Son’s birth. Her child filled with wisdom and teaching as was mine… I once again realised, on this trip, how infinitely wise Vic was. She knew that I would have to remove myself from everyday life to heal.

She made me promise to do this trip with the boys.

Looking at the Pietà I saw a mother holding the body of her lifeless child. Tears filled my soul when I remembered holding the body of my lifeless child. For a fleeting moment I felt the heat that radiated from her fever wracked little body. I could hear the thundering silence from her breathing that had stopped…

I saw the lonely sadness of a mother isolated from the world in her grief. I recognised that isolation that I experienced at the second of Vicky’s death.

I stood there and realised that it will never change. I will always be isolated in my grief and longing for the child that I lived for. No one in the world could possibly love her the way I did. She was blood of my blood.

She loved her boys the way I loved her. She loved her boys with every fibre in her body. Her thoughts, fears and sorrow centred on her sons until she breathed her last breath. The blood of her blood. Her future…

Standing in front of the Pietà I realised that the closest bond is the bond between a mother and a child. Not a child and a mother…. Children move on and live for their children

Walking the streets of Europe I was filled with an all-consuming anger. Anger at God, anger at careless doctors; angry at a horrific disease called Osteogenesis Imperfecta. I was angry at the fact that my child was robbed. Robbed of a life with her boys. That I was robbed of a lifetime with my child.

As the old Year is edging towards the New I am filled with trepidation and horrific sadness. Not only for my Vic but for the many who crossed my path this year and who are enfolded in their own grief.

So much pain, longing and sadness as we look to starting another year without our loved ones.

I have survived my birthday, Christmas Eve, Christmas Day and Jared’s birthday. I have cried on my own, in the shower, in shops. I have been filled with rage and despair when I saw all the Christmas cards “For my Daughter”… I will never buy another card for my precious child. I will never be able to open gifts with her under the Christmas tree. Nothing will ever be the same again.

In three weeks’ time it will be Vic’s 2 year anniversary. Two long years without my child, my best friend…

I read that it gets worse as time goes by. It does get worse. The raw sadness has dissolved into a steady all-consuming pain. The longing to hold her one more time overwhelming.

And, although I know that it is Time to Say Goodbye I know I will never move on.

In memory of Vicky by Dennis McHale

Tonight I visited the blog of a brilliant blogger Dennis McHale who writes hauntingly beautiful poetry. I read through a number of his poems, very aware of the man own personal pain, when I came across this tribute to Vic that Dennis posted on the 2nd of May 2013. Reading it, I was as touched as I was then… Thank you Dennis.

I hope that one day I will read happiness in your words.

MAY 2, 2013

In Memory of Vicky

This poem is dedicated to my dear friend “tersiaburger”
In memory of her beloved daughter, Vicky.

——————————————————————-

You and I
are touched by one star.

Wherever you are
we stand together in one light
which no depth or height or distance
can ever dim.

Wherever you are
your light shines;
past time and space
past flesh to thought,
I feel your power.

Wherever you go
the day will dawn
and the star will appear;
for you are a child of this light
and it fosters your heavenly dreams.

In this light, I have found ways
to heal, to bind up,
to tear down the feeble structures
of fear of your absence has
carelessly constructed within me.

You and I
are touched by one star.

In its glowing embrace
we find our true selves;
we find our peace.

Today I may stand alone,

missing you with all my heart
be I stand strong.
Through the corridors of our courage
you have helped me to
discover those eternal lines
of love within myself;
my birthright discovered because

Vicky and I are
touched by one star.

http://dlmchale.com/2013/05/02/in-memory-of-vicky/

Heavens Door

Unimaginable pain

When my beautiful little girl exhaled her last breath, it felt as if my heart was ripped into a million pieces.

One year and 5 months have passed and my heart is still in a million pieces. But, the pain is no longer that same raw pain. Sometimes it is a sharp, searing pain; sometimes a dull heartbreaking pain. At times I feel so alone, numb and at other times I am convinced that I will lose my mind with grief.

But, the pain is more “refined”. It is no longer that raw, unbearable pain.

There are times that I feel that my nerve endings are exploding. And yet, there any many things I can no longer remember. I read today that it is my body is protecting me… I am grateful for it. I am glad that I have forgotten some of the horror of Vic’s death. I am clinging to the good days.

I went away with two friends last weekend. It was amazing. We laughed until we cried, we spoke about the death of our loved ones, we loved and supported one another. The empathy stemmed from knowledge.

On our first night in the mountains I dreamt of maggots. There were maggots everywhere. I tried to kill them, but they kept crawling out of everywhere. I was scared and nauseous. I am petrified of maggots!

To see maggots in your dream represent your anxieties about death. It may also be indicative of some issue or problem that you have been rejecting and it is now “eating away” at you. You need to confront it for it is destroying your sense of harmony and balance.

Maggots as true to their characters signify similar emotions in real life if appear in dreams. The strongest emotion the maggots dreamer having is the fear of its own death. You can say it as fear or curiosity related to death but the persistent thought of death can be the result of such type of dreams. Maggots in dream also signify that the person is far away from mental and spiritual peace which can prove harmful for him in many ways.
More:http://www.gotohoroscope.com/txt/dream-interpretation-maggots.html

A very common dream of maggots is to see them gathered around you and you are trying to remove them as quickly as possible. This you are trying to do with vacuum cleaner or burner or chemicals. All the dreams suggest the need of your brain to be free from nay complications and guilt. Your attempt to kill them shows that you want to bring thing back in order. This also means that you are facing some troubles in life and standing on your grounds to let it pass
More:http://www.gotohoroscope.com/txt/dream-interpretation-maggots.html

So, which one is it?

I do not fear death. I fear dying in pain and indignity. I fear being a burden to my loved ones.

I have often said that when I am dying I want to be dropped off at a hospice. My loved ones must kiss me goodbye and leave. I do not want them standing next to my bed watching me gasp for breath… I want a big sign put up above my bed that must read “Do not touch”.

I am facing difficulties in life. So much has changed in the past 516 days. I have lost more than my child. I have lost being a mother. I lost my best friend. We lost our laughter… Judy reminisced this weekend about how Vic and the boys would laugh at night when they said goodnight. I have lost others that I love because our pain collided.

Yet I am alive. My life goes on despite the terrible void that Vic’s death left. The boys are so amazing. Soon Jared will attend his Matric farewell. Next year he will go to university… firsts that his mom will not be part of…I can just imagine the excitement if Vic had been around.

When you lose a child you get caught up in a maelström of grief. The firsts never end. Every morning the pain starts all over again. The grieving never ends.

At a funeral I attended today the minister said “Grieve hard”.

I do.

If tomorrow starts without me

This played just before Vic’s memorial service started. A deadly silence descended in the church as we all sat crying for this precious child of mine. I listen to this often. I still cry when I hear the words that Vic could have spoken. How I miss my precious child.

If tomorrow starts without me,
And I’m not there to see,
If the sun should rise and find your eyes
All filled with tears for me;
I wish so much you wouldn’t cry the way you did today,
While thinking of the many things, we didn’t get to say.
I know how much you love me,
As much as I love you,
And each time that you think of me,
I know you’ll miss me too;
But when tomorrow starts without me,
Please try to understand,
That an angel came and called my name,
And took me by the hand,
And said my place was ready,
In heaven far above,
And that I’d have to leave behind;
All those I dearly love.
But as I turned to walk away,
A tear fell from my eye
For all my life, I’d always thought,
I didn’t want to die.
I had so much to live for, So much left yet to do,
It seemed almost impossible,
That I was leaving you.
I thought of all the yesterdays,
The good ones and the bad,
I thought of all the love we shared,
And all the fun we had.
If I could relive yesterday,
Just even for a while,
I’d say good-bye and kiss you
And maybe see you smile.
But then I fully realized,
That this could never be,
For emptiness and memories,
Would take the place of me.
And when I thought of worldly things,
I might miss come tomorrow,
I thought of you, and when I did,
My heart was filled with sorrow.
But when I walked through heaven’s gates,
I felt so much at home.
When God looked down and smiled at me,
From His great golden throne,
He said, “This is eternity, And all I’ve promised you.”
Today your life on earth is past,
But here life starts anew.
I promise no tomorrow, But today will always last,
And since each day’s the same way,
There’s no longing for the past.
You have been so faithful, So trusting and so true.
Though there were times you did some things,
You knew you shouldn’t do.
But you have been forgiven, And now at last you’re free.
So won’t you come and take my hand, And share my life with me?
So when tomorrow starts without me, Don’t think we’re far apart,
For every time you think of me, I’m right here, in your heart.

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