One year today


My precious child

Somehow 31,536,000 seconds or even 525,600 minutes makes far more sense than 8760 hours; 365 days; 52 weeks and one day or 1 year…

If feels as if a lifetime of sorrow has passed since you stopped breathing.  If feels as if it has been a lifetime since I held you in my arms.  It feels as if I have cried an ocean of tears.

In the past year I have aged.  I have gained weight. I have existed. A year ago my life ended.  The boys and I still burn candles for you.

I am still filled with rage.  I know you were born with Osteogenesis Imperfecta but doctor arrogance caused you so much pain, suffering and indignity.  I know that you would more than likely have died before me but perhaps with less suffering?

I will always miss you.  I will always remember your smile, your laugh, your bravery. I will never forget how you fought to live.

Today I want to thank you for my beautiful grandsons.  Thank you for remaining my little girl through-out your life.  Thank you for fighting for so long.  You were such a warrior!

I thank God that you came home to die.  I thank God that I had the privilege of caring for you.  I thank God that He entrusted me with something as pure and precious as you.

I am grateful that you are no longer fracturing vertebrae from vomiting.  As much as I miss your laugh I do not miss your pain filled tears.  I am grateful precious baby that your suffering is over.

I miss your company.  I miss our late night chats, drinking untold cups of tea/coffee.  I miss your text messages, your telephone calls, your shuffling footsteps down the passage…  the smell of smoke alerting me that you are awake and sitting on your step…

I miss the boys laughter.  I miss the joy that you brought into our lives.

We will continue to honour your memory – every day of our lives.  Your legacy will live on in each and every person that is allowed to live until they die with dignity.

I love you Angel Child with every fiber in my body.

Your Silent Dreams by April D. Parker
I held you as you were sleeping…
All the while I sat weeping….
Gazing at your beautiful features…
For you were one of God’s Creatures…

I loved you from the minute you existed to be…
Living inside me, Dreaming silently…
You were always a part of my life…
Even before you saw day-light…

Looking down at you, I kissed your warm little hand…
Knowing you had passed on to the Promised Land…
You, my sweet baby, are forever my Child…
The fact you were in my life makes it worth while…

Undeniably I have hope…
The thought of seeing you again allows my spirit to lift…
I thank God to have had what time I had with you…
Love and cherish you I shall always do…

look and don't touch_edited vicbaby Vic 5 years old100_7453 (2)Image (184) Image (191) Image (193) Image (214) Image (220)

A Few After….. Revised


look and don't touch_editedA few minutes after her birth…..

I could hear her announcing scream.

I couldn’t believe she was finally here,

The realization of my dream.

A few hours after her birth…..

I held her so close to my chest.

Somehow that little girl let me see,

A special love that never left.25a

A few days after her birth…..

I held her tiny little hand.

I told her there would be lots of things

That I would help her to understand.

A few weeks after her birth…..

She had that sparkle in her eyes,

And when she showed me that little smile,

I thought that I would surely die.

A few months after her birth…..

She was just beginning to learn.

She didn’t like me to go away,

And she cried until I returned.

A few years after her birth……

I still couldn’t believe she was mine.

We talked and laughed and went for walks.

We had so many special times..

A few after…..

A few minutes after her death…..

I didn’t know I needed to scream.

I thought that she was still safe and here…

I didn’t know the truth of my dream.

A few hours after her death…..

I felt a strangeness within my chest.

Something was wrong that I couldn’t see.

God! I didn’t know that she had left.

A few days after her death…..

I held her cold and lifeless hand.

There were just so very many things

That I could not fully understand.

A few weeks after her death…..

That sparkle stolen from my eyes,

No longer to see her beautiful smile.

I never, ever thought that she would die.

A few months after her death…..

There was so much I needed to learn.

I was confused when she went away,

And I still waited for her return.

A year after her death…..

I still wish that she could be mine,

To talk and laugh and go for walks.

I miss those special moments in time.

A few after…..

A few minutes after MY death……

Once again I will hear her scream,

“Hey Mommy, it’s me, I’m over here,

And Mommy, this time it’s not a dream.”

A few hours after MY death…….

I’ll hold her close again to my chest.

She’ll look at me and say… “Now see?”

It doesn’t seem so long since I left.”

A few days after MY death…..

She will gently take me by the hand,

And show me all the glorious things,

And help me to understand.

A few weeks after MY death…..

I’ll see that sparkle in her eyes.

Once again she’ll warm me with her smile,

And say… “You see, Mommy, I didn’t die”.

A few months after MY death…….

Together we’ll have so much to learn.

We’ll never have to go away,

Or long for each other’s return.

A few years after MY death…..

Forever she will always be mine.

We’ll talk and laugh and go for long walks,

Because we’ll have nothing…… but time.

~ by Christine Ross in memory of Lucas Christopher Ross 1979 – 2001 © 2003 – Christine Ross revised 2007

A Mother’s Tears


I have filled an ocean with tears.
Salty and bitter, they flow from my soul.
All the grief, all the pain
All the sadness, all the fears.

All the hurt, all the whys.
All the could haves, all the loss.
All the regrets, all the lost chances.
All the wants, all the goodbyes.

I have filled an ocean with tears.
Sweet and soft, they flow from my soul.
All the joy, all the laughter
All the love, all of the years.

All the rewards, all the smiles.
All the triumphs, all the hellos.
All that was right and all that was good.
All the kisses and hugs from my child.

I have filled an ocean with tears.
Salty and bitter, sweet and soft.
For love, for sadness, for joy, for pain.
I have filled an ocean with tears.
Karen McCombs)

My empty heart


Look into my empty heart
Look into my empty arms
See into my haunted eyes
Do you see my sorrow
When it began its start

A horrific dream has emptied me
A beautiful flower has fallen down
Petals like blood stains upon the ground
My heart fell down for the beauty lost

If you touch my heart touch with love
Not with sorrow my friend
I have enough of my own
For my child gone above

Written by a dear WP friend, Len Carver http://amotherssorrow.wordpress.com/2014/01/16/february-19-2013/.  Her precious daughter “KLYSTA LaNELL  BRESHEARS, AUGUST 20, 1969 ~ FEBRUARY 19, 2011, was MURDERED BY THE ONE CLAIMING TO LOVE HER
HE DID …HE LOVED HER TO DEATH… JUSTICE HAS NOT BEEN SERVED.”

I HAVE LEARNED …

I’ve learned I am stronger than I ever imagined I could be
I’ve learned I am weaker than I ever imagined I could be
I’ve learned to live each day since the loss of you

I’ve learned that when my world is spinning out of control
To lean into the curves so as not to fall to the ground
I’ve learned to live each day since the loss of you

I’ve learned that even when there is so much pain
I have to hold it all together I cannot go insane
I’ve learned to live each day since the loss of you

I’ve learned through all the tears I have cried
That crying does not ease the pain tho I have tried
I’ve learned to live each day since the loss of you

I’ve learned that framed pictures are not the same
Memories are allright, rather hear you call my name
I’ve learned to live each day since the loss of you

I’ve learned that no one understands my grief
Except another mother with a cemetery wreath
I’ve learned to live each day since the loss of you

I’ve learned a life can be taken with the blink of an eye
And only God knows the when, where and why
We didn’t get to say I love you and good-bye

I’ve learned to live each day since the loss of you

Setting Vic free 14.1.2013


I had stopped all visits. It was family time. Our little family united in the trauma of our loved one’s dying.

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The boys were back at school on the 9th of January. On Monday, the 14th of January, it was Jon-Daniel’s academic awards evening. Vic had so desperately wanted to attend. The Sunday evening she begged me to please promise her that she would attend. I promised her, knowing that it was a death-bed promise I would not be able to honour.

Sunday night, the 13th of January 2013, Vic gently slipped into a semi-coma. She was no longer conscious of what was happening to her and around her. She was only able to respond by blinking her eyes…

Monday morning Vic woke up….She was alert and asked to go to the toilet. She was unable to stand on her own and Primrose and I half-carried her… Her little body dumped it contents. Vic was petrified. She had not eaten since Christmas. I undressed my precious child and held her up in the shower. I washed her hair and her painfully thin little body. I was soaked but Vic was clean.

“Mommy I am dying… I don’t want to die. I am so scared.” Vic cried

“I know my angel. Mommy is here…”

“Mommy, I am so sore. Please can I have something for pain?”

“Angel, do you want the normal dose or the increased dosage that Sue prescribed?”

“The increased dosage Mommy…”

“Sweetie, you know that it will make you sleep…”

“I know Mommy. I cannot bear the pain anymore…”

“Must I keep you on the increased dosage angel?”

“Yes please Mommy….”

I drew up the syringes. It broke my heart trying to find a site to inject. Her little body was so bruised.

“Okay my angel. I am ready when you are” I said

Vic nodded. The tears brimming in her eyes. “I love you Mommy” she said

“I love you too – with all my heart” I said as I injected the medication into my precious child’s body.

Vic looked at me with so much love in her eyes. She knew that the sedation stage had started with the increased medication.

Vic had spoken her final words. Vic knew that the medication would take effect and that her voice was silenced. My precious baby girl was ready to take the hands of her angels that would accompany her on her final journey. She had fought her battle.

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“I love you Mommy were the last words Vic ever spoke.

SET YOU FREE

You’re hanging on as night turns to dawn

I know you can’t stay and soon you’ll be gone

we both know it’s hard to let go; wherever you are my love won’t be far

your smile, your touch, your voice, your face; your essence I will never replace

though I long for you to hold me; I need to set you free

There is no fear and your leaving is clear

we’ll still have our love it remains with each tear

I cry as you leave but I truly believe; as you leave my sight we’ll both be all right

your smile, your touch, your voice, your face; your essence I will never replace

though I long for you to hold me; I need to set you free

though you have flown to somewhere unknown

we’re never apart ’cause you’re here in my heart

 your smile, your touch, your voice, your face; your essence I will never replace

though I long for you to hold me; I need to set you free

though I long for you to hold me; I need to set you free  http://myjourneysinsight.com/

These words belong to a dear WP friend, Judy Unger.

Textbook death 13.1.2013


I am cautiously optimistic that we have managed to stop the bleeding ulcer and that the new medicine regime has the vomiting under control.  Vic is still running a fever, her BP is dropping and her heart rate has stabilized in the 110’s.  She appears to be more stable than she has been in a couple of weeks.IMG_8501

This morning, after I washed her and changed her pyjamas she said “Mommy, I would like to go to the supermarket today…”

“Cool, what do you want to buy?”  I asked

“Tippex (correction liquid) for the boys and Stilpain and Syndol (Tablets)” she said.

“Okay….” I said

“But I think you will have to drive Mommy… I don’t think I should be driving!” Vic said

This incredible young woman just does not know how to die!  Vic had a good breakfast this morning.  Vic has not eaten since Christmas!

The boys are fleeing home.  Jon-Daniel has spent the past day and a half at Esther and Leon’s.  Jared went to his Dad’s.  I wish I too could flee.  For the first time in my life I have come to understand why families place their dying loved ones in hospital of in a Hospice In-Patient unit.  The waiting is gruelling and heart wrenching.  The rollercoaster of dying is horrific!

I previously researched the “length of dying”.

The Journey Begins: One to Three Months Prior to Death

As one begins to accept their mortality and realizes that death is approaching, they may begin to withdraw from their surroundings. They are beginning the process of separating from the world and those in it. They may decline visits from friends, neighbors, and even family members. When they do accept visitors, they may be difficult to interact with and care for. They are beginning to contemplate their life and revisit old memories. They may be evaluating how they lived their life and sorting through any regrets. They may also undertake the five tasks of dying.

#1: Ask For Forgiveness

           #2: Offer ForgivenessTask

           #3: Offer Heartfelt ThanksTask

           #4: Offer Sentiments of Love

           #5: Say Goodbye

The dying person may experience reduced appetite and weight loss as the body begins to slow down. The body doesn’t need the energy from food that it once did. The dying person may be sleeping more now and not engaging in activities they once enjoyed. They no longer need the nourishment from food they once did. The body does a wonderful thing during this time as altered body chemistry produces a mild sense of euphoria. They are neither hungry nor thirsty and are not suffering in any way by not eating. It is an expected part of the journey they have begun.

One to Two Weeks Prior to Death

Mental Changes

This is the time during the journey that one begins to sleep most of the time. Disorientation is common and altered senses of perception can be expected. One may experience delusions, such as fearing hidden enemies or feeling invincible.

The dying person may also experience hallucinations, sometimes seeing or speaking to people that aren’t there. Often times these are people that have already died. Some may see this as the veil being lifted between this life and the next. The person may pick at their sheets and clothing in a state of agitation. Movements and actions may seem aimless and make no sense to others. They are moving further away from life on this earth.

Physical Changes

The body is having a more difficult time maintaining itself. There are signs that the body may show during this time:

  • The body temperature lowers by a degree or more.
  • The blood pressure lowers.
  • The pulse becomes irregular and may slow down or speed up.
  • There is increased perspiration.
  • Skin color changes as circulation becomes diminished. This is often more noticeable in the lips and nail beds as they become pale and bluish.
  • Breathing changes occur, often becoming more rapid and labored. Congestion may also occur causing a rattling sound and cough.
  • Speaking decreases and eventually stops altogether.

Journey’s End: A Couple of Days to Hours Prior to Death

The person is moving closer towards death. There may be a surge of energy as they get nearer. They may want to get out of bed and talk to loved ones, or ask for food after days of no appetite. This surge of energy may be quite a bit less noticeable but is usually used as a dying person’s final physical expression before moving on.

The surge of energy is usually short, and the previous signs become more pronounced as death approaches. Breathing becomes more irregular and often slower. “Cheyne-Stokes”breathing, rapid breathes followed by periods of no breathing at all, may occur. Congestion in the airway can increase causing loud, rattled breathing.

Hands and feet may become blotchy and purplish (mottled). This mottling may slowly work its way up the arms and legs. Lips and nail beds are bluish or purple. The person usually becomes unresponsive and may have their eyes open or semi-open but not seeing their surroundings. It is widely believed that hearing is the last sense to go so it is recommended that loved ones sit with and talk to the dying during this time.

Eventually, breathing will cease altogether and the heart stops. Death has occurred. http://dying.about.com/od/thedyingprocess/a/process.htm

Vic has experienced severe delirium or rather terminal restlessness, which is apparently a fairly common symptom in many dying patients.

Some characteristics of delirium include:

  • Impaired level of consciousness with a reduced awareness of the surrounding environment
  • Impaired short-term memory and attention span
  • Disorientation to time and place
  • Delusions and/or hallucinations (believing and/or seeing things that are not real)
  • Uncharacteristic speech – may be really loud or soft, very rapid or slow
  • Fluctuating mood swings
  • Sleep disturbances – insomnia or reversed sleep cycle
  • Abnormal activity – body movements may be increase or decreased, very fast or slow

 

Terminal Restlessness

Terminal restlessness is a particularly distressing form of delirium that may occur in dying patients. It is characterized by anguish (spiritual, emotional, or physical),

restlessness, anxiety, agitation, and cognitive failure.

Terminal restlessness is so distressing because it has a direct negative impact on the dying process. We all want death to be a comfortable and peaceful experience, but if a patient is dying with terminal restlessness, her death can be anything but comfortable and peaceful. http://dying.about.com/od/symptommanagement/a/delirium.htm

Vic is on massive dosages of medication.  She is peaceful now.

On Monday, the 14th, Jon-Daniel will receive his school colours for academic achievements.  Vicky is determined to attend the ceremony.  We will find a way of getting her to the school to witness this achievement.  I believe it is the last goal she has.

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Vic and her pride and joy, Jon-Daniel 4.1.2013

So despite me saying that Vic does not know how to die she is actually having a textbook death…

“Promise me Mommy…..” 13.1.2013


ImageIt has been a long day.  Vic is in a drug induced sleep.  She looks so peaceful.  Vic is not anesthetized – she wakes when she is thirsty or in pain.  She has only urinated once in 24 hours.  Her end is near.

Vic is looking angelically beautiful.  Her skin is blemish free and almost transparent.  Her hair seems to have taken on a life of its own.  Her little hands look skeleton like.  Her body is wasting away and yet she remains as beautiful as ever!

I will not sleep tonight.  Many years ago I promised Vic that she would not die alone or in a hospital.  The time is near and I must honour this promise.

Earlier tonight she woke up and I wasn’t in her room.  She had a panic attack… Danie found her trying to walk down the passage.  She was holding onto the wall and tears were running down her cheeks.  “Mommy, I am scared…”

Something has started bleeding again.  Vic vomited and there are signs of old and new blood again.  “Look Mommy, my mouth is bleeding…” she said.

Vic is deadly pale and her body has involuntary “jerking” movements.   She is decidedly unstable.

“Mommy, you have to get me to the awards evening.  I don’t care how.  Promise me Mommy!!!”  She sobbed tonight.  Tomorrow I will speak to the school and make the arrangements.  It is not a wheelchair friendly school and Vic could never sit through a two-hour ceremony.  We will find a way.

We had a strangely “normal” day today.  Jared brought his gaming computer down from the study into my TV lounge.  It is something I don’t encourage because there are wires and cords all over and I HATE the untidiness of it.  Today I welcomed it.  We needed to be close to one another.  I swam twice and we ate spaghetti bolognaise.

The boys have fear in their eyes.  I have fear in my heart.

Daddy don’t leave me…. 12.1.2013


A year ago I posted this.  Yesterday we had visitors.  We swam; the grandchildren laughed and joked, played hide and seek; we ate spaghetti bolognaise and ciabatta.  I sat looking at all the happy faces and remembered Vic clinging to Danie.  I remember the fear in her eyes.  Her desperation.  Her final Sunday.

Vic was desperately trying to finish the cards she had bought the boys.  She wanted to write the perfect words.  Words that would reach out to her boys from the grave.  I remember my fear and frustration.  Frustration that the cards had not been written and fear that it would not get done.  So much pressure in death…

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Tuesday brought an avalanche of visitors.  It was a very, very emotional day.  Vic was confused and seeing visions of angels and dead loved ones.

Vic’s friend Angela has been absolutely amazing.  She has sat through many hours of Vic’s tears and fears.  She has consoled and supported – at great personal expense.  I have used Angela as a sounding board and dragged her into discussions with Siza. I discussed sedation and treatment options with her.  She has hugged and messaged.  She has been a pillar of strength.

Leigh, Jared BFF’s Mom, walked in on Tuesday with armloads of flowers.  Vic’s room looked and smelled like a garden!  It looked absolutely beautiful and Vic was thrilled.

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Vic has refused to let go.  She is holding onto life with every fibre of her being.  She does not want visitors to leave and will try to get out of bed when they are here.

She cries and keeps asking “How do I say my final goodbyes?”

Esther visits every day.  She picks up the boys after school.  She is Vic’s guide.  “Go towards the light.  The light is good!” she keeps telling Vic.  Esther is a ray of sunshine and like the Rock of Gibraltar.  She is Vic’s sister in love.

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It is heart wrenching!

Vic clings to her dad and the boys.  She puts out her arms and says “Daddy don’t leave me…”  When she sees her boys she cries “Please give me a hug…”  and then “I love you more than life and then some more…”

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I hate my life.  I wish I were dead.

The hardest part of life


In my arms I held you tight
Through the hardest part of life
In my heart the memories clear
Of the greatest child I love so dear
I held you so close to my heart
Praying that we’ll never part
But angels came and took you away
And tears I shed for your everyday
Now a shining lit up star
My precious child watches from up far
And sees all the pain I’m going through                                                                      Know that you are forever in my heart

 

 

 

dead woman walking


My post of one year ago.  IMG_8510Reading through this post, retracing last year, I can only thank God my baby girl’s suffering is over.  Do I miss her?  With every fibre in my body.  At times I feel as if I am drowning in my grief.  At other times I am so grateful that my prayers were answered and that my little Angle now runs, free of pain, Last night I had a discussion with someone who Vic loves very dearly.  This friend of Vic has spent endless hours, days, weeks and months in hospital with Vic.  She is actually the only person that has truly travelled this horrific journey with us.  Vic has lived through many death sentences and reprieves.  Lee has been around for at least the past 7 years of Vic’s journey.  Lee has nursed Vic back to health many times and I know she cares deeply for her friend.

I discussed the various treatment options with her.  Do I insist on having a stent fitted or do I request feeding tubes?  Or do I go with Vic’s non-intervention wish?  But if I comply how do I bring calmness and peace in Vic’s life?  Vic is no exception to the rule…As Bella (the Minister) pointed out last night: even Jesus of NAZARETH feared death….Fearing death is as natural as breathing is to us.

Last night I decided no sedation.  If I allow sedation, which is against her wishes, I would silence Vic’s voice, her fears and her tears.

Dr Sue says the bleeding is from the abdomen.  Her Oesophagus, throat and mouth are covered in a mass of sores from all the vomiting.  Her breathing is shallow and her heart rate weak but very rapid.  Her blood pressure is dropping and her circulation is poor.  The liver is very enlarged.

We are past the point of no return.  Vicky is dying and only a miracle can save her.  There is no operation, no magic medication.  Nothing can save her.

Today I again witnessed her anguish and phenomenal will to live. 

I had a dream.  I saw Vic being escorted, in deadly silence, down a long dark passage.  Her family and friends were escorting her on her final walk into the chamber of death.  I clearly saw the fear in her eyes and I could feel her little body trembling with fear.  I heard a voice saying “Dead woman walking…”

I saw her walk into the Chamber of Death, being strapped down, and the needle being inserted into her little arm.  In my dream I was the head warden and my eyes were flitting between the clock and a telephone…Would there be another reprieve??

Then I woke.

It is so cruel.  For all of us.  Why do people linger?  Why don’t we all just go to sleep and never wake up?  Or die in a car accident?  Why this suffering???  I want to go to sleep and never wake up.  Life sucks!

Vic is on a mild sedation.  She is more calm and peaceful than she has been for a couple of weeks.  She woke up this evening and had dinner…half a hamburger!!  My little take-away queen!! She only vomited at 11.30 pm so she managed to actually keep down the food.  She has passed no urine today.

She sobbed when I told her the boys had covered their school books…”I want to do it for them!”  She wailed

“I have let down my boys.  I always cover their books…”

The boys were in her room when Vic said “Oh Jared, look!  Oupa Tienie is standing behind you…”  It really spooked the boys.  Tienie, Vic’s biological father, died on the 5th of November 1999…

Her angels have come to fetch her.

I wish Vic was married.  I wish her biological father was still alive!  I wish the decision was not mine!!!

Tomorrow I will ask that the sedation be increased.  I will silence my child’s sweet voice.  I will also silence her tears and fears.

“Dead woman walking…”

I am your child…


It is finally 2014.  I am so grateful that 2013 officially in the past.  I also get to say “My daughter died last year”

2013 was filled with tremendous loss.  Not only did I lose my child, other loved ones but I also lost myself.  2013 was filled with lessons. Painful lessons…

I have learned that grief is a solitary, unique experience. I have the learnt the difference between grief and sadness. I have learnt that grief is never-ending. I have learnt that it takes courage to grieve. I have learnt that the depth of loss depends on the depth of the relationship that has been severed.

In this process of grieving for my child I have lost me…I have become a stranger to myself. Vic and I were always “one”. I am battling to function with half of me gone. I miss the other half of my soul…

Once I was an organised person now I have become totally disorganised. My house and filing is a mess. My time management sucks! I battle to read and complete tasks. I no longer trust my judgement. I have trusted people who have scorned my love and trust. I have become forgetful. I have hidden my jewellery somewhere and for the life of me I cannot remember where. I have hidden the boys Christmas gifts – I cannot remember where. I have missed appointments, mislaid my keys…

I am preoccupied with Vic’s death. Everything that happens, I relate back to Vic’s death. In unguarded moments I relive her final moments, the vision of seeing her being loaded onto a gurney… I hear her final words echo through my mind and body “I love you Mommy…”. I relive her fear of dying, her desperation at saying her final goodbyes…

I have become impatient and intolerant. I am on the defensive. I feel isolated in my grief. I truly feel that only my WordPress friends, who have also lost a child, understands. My real world friends and family do not. How can they? They have never lost a child. They get to hold their children….They can rest their heads on their children’s heads and smell their freshly washed hair, feel their soft skins….


I have lost interest in things that used to fascinate me. I no longer enjoy decoupage, scrapbooking, painting or baking. Life has taken on a different meaning. I have new responsibilities.  Vic entrusted her beloved sons to my care and tasked me with Stepping Stone Hospice.

Because grief is primarily a personal experience it certainly takes its toll on relationships. Partners can try to understand someone else’s grief but they can never experience it or take on the burden themselves.

On the surface it appears society is accepting of this unbearable sadness and people are supportive and open to talking about it. I’ve been surprised by people’s genuine kindness and empathy as much as I’ve been repeatedly shocked & disappointed by their lack of it.

Although friends and family have been supportive, there is a mandate as for how long their unwavering support, patience, understanding, concern and empathy lasts. The truth is, the situation is so unbearably sad that it becomes incredibly emotionally draining on the other person.

The realisation that they can’t fix your sadness sets in, the frustration builds because not even they can see an end in sight, then gradually it starts to impede on the happiness in their life. They haven’t lost their child so why should they spend all their time sad about yours?

I cannot expect anyone, who did not truly witness and live the horror of seeing my beautiful child die, to understand my grief.

What frustrates and angers me most is that people, in the misguided perception that they are guiding or comforting me, insist on how I must be feeling! Who gives anyone the right to decide whether my emotions are “right” or “appropriate”. Please don’t give me advice. Don’t pretend to understand and keep your criticism to yourself. Please just be there if I invite you into my private space.

I am so tired. I am tired of living without my child, tired of trying to justify my grief, minding my words…I am tired of being hurt. I am tired of the hurt.

This morning I read the Facebook status of a brave young woman who lost her two precious daughters last year… “God has added one more day to my life. Not because I need the day but because someone else needs me. So I will get out of bed…..”

So, on the third day of 2014, I was inspired to make a decision. I will fight back against this terrible grief that is threatening to destroy me. I cannot bring back my child. I cannot make people understand, love or accept me. I will try to take back my life this year. I will start writing Vic’s book. I will focus on those who care for me; I will disregard my detractors… I will change my eating habits, exercise and sleep in a bed. I will lose my vulnerability. I will honour Vic through my life.

On the 18th of January the boys and I will do something special to celebrate their Mom’s life. Our lives will become about celebrating Vic’s life – not her death.

My brave child’s words to her boys are ringing through my head – “I am your mother not your excuse”.

I hear Vic’s voice loud and clear “I am your child – not your excuse”.

I hear you precious child. I promise to continuously remind the boys too… I miss you so much. I will honour you through my life.

NUMBERS


Len Carver is a dear WordPress friend who beautifully and accurately articulates my emotions and life in this post… She is however writing about her own pain filled life after losing her precious Klysta.

I tried to read this to someone this morning and was met with a barrage of “it is your choice not to get on with your life…”  All I wanted to demonstrate is that I am not the only person in the world battling to cope with the death of a child.  A mothers grief is intense and scary.

So today I wish to say to the world – If you have never lost a child you will NEVER understand.  You can and will NEVER have compassion.  If you have never experienced an emotion – how can you understand it?

Losing a child is a pain that no parent should ever experience.  It is an emptiness that you cannot understand from the outside.

I get so angry with fake people.  Don’t pretend you care.  Don’t pretend to understand.  Leave me be with my grief.  Live your life – I will live mine.

It is MY CHILD who died.  I am the childless one.  Carry on with your happy life.

Reading this I recognise my anger.  I am angry.  I am angry that I have to send up lanterns for my dead child, and you get to hold yours. I am angry for the sadness in my grandsons eyes.  I am angry that your lack of understanding deprives me the privilege of GRIEVING for my child.  I am so tired of having to put up a HAPPY face.

I am not happy.  I am terribly sad.  Get used to the idea.  It will never change unless you can bring back my child…. So, I will grieve for my child in 2014.  I will grieve for her until the second I die.

Respect my love for my child enough to allow this.  Thank you Len for your beautiful post.

Happy New Year all…

Lanterns to heaven
Lanterns to heaven

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lenwilliamscarver's avatarA MOTHERS' SORROW

Our life is full of numbers, our birth date, the birthdays that follow, school days, wedding day, then anniversaries or divorce dates, children’ birthdays, graduations, marriages, grandchildren, and all the numbered days in between, even our days on earth are numbered.
Today marks two years, ten months and ten days since my daughters death, February 19, 2011. I don’t know whether to count from that day as the day my heart broke or if it is broken further everyday since that horrid phone call, or is it the day my sanity was lost.
Today Dec. 29, 2013 I am so freaking angry, sad and lonely. I want to curse and drink and act out to relieve the anger, the anger at losing Klysta, anger that my life changed so dramatically that day. Nothing and I mean nothing in my life has been right since.
I am tumbling, spiraling into depression…

View original post 592 more words

I do not want to die…Christmas Eve 2012


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2012

A year ago today my heart was filled with profound sadness.  I knew that it would be our last Christmas as a complete family.  I knew that, a year later, I would again battle with Christmas Eve.  I knew then that I would be filled with sadness the next time we sat under a Christmas tree.  I knew that never again would Vic open a gift, sit on Santa’s lap…  

I remember Vic’s last minute shopping and how difficult is was for my precious baby girl to buy her gifts.  She had been too ill to shop in advance.  I remember my impatience with Vic in Edgars.  I knew she was looking for my gift and that she was wearing her little body out trying to find something appropriate for her mommy – my final gift.  I knew that the effort was just too much for her dying body.  I vividly remember her refusing to use her wheelchair.  I remember Jared helping his mommy – literally holding her  upright in the queue.  I remember my anger at the department store because it took so long to process the sales…. I knew that Vic would pay the price for shopping later that day and I wanted a perfect Christmas Eve… An evening embedded in our memories as the best Christmas Eve ever.

Christmas Eve 2010
Christmas Eve 2010

A year ago I posted this:

It is Christmas Eve.  It is a warm, and sunny-day, and my heart is cold.

This is our last Christmas as a complete family.

Vic has been vomiting non-stop.  The acid has burnt the inside of her mouth.  Her derriere is so lumpy, black and blue from the constant injections.  Sr Siza popped in.  She examined Vic and started drawing up a Clopamon and Morphine injection.

“Please Sister, not my bum.  Please do it on my thigh.”

Vic no longer has an appetite.  She is sleeping at least 20 out of 24 hours.  Vic is very warm to the touch and appears flushed.  The thermometer reflects a temperature of 37 degrees C.

“Do you understand what your body is telling you Vic?”  Siza asked

Vic nodded and whispered “I do not want to die…”

“Nobody wants to die, Vicky.  We all will walk this path.  Some sooner than others… You have a degenerative illness and your body is tired…”

“You must surrender your body to God.  It is time for your brain to make peace with what is happening in your body.” Siza said.  “Where is your Bible?”

Siza read from Ecclesiastes 3 – New International Version (NIV)

3 There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under the heavens:

2     a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot,
3     a time to kill and a time to heal,
a time to tear down and a time to build,
4     a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance,
5     a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,
6     a time to search and a time to give up,
a time to keep and a time to throw away,
7     a time to tear and a time to mend,
a time to be silent and a time to speak,
8     a time to love and a time to hate,
a time for war and a time for peace.

Siza prayed for Vic and the family for peace and grace in this time.  Vic cried and Danie gently held her.

Danie, and I walked with Siza.  Her eyes were sad when she said “Her body is shutting down.  It could be quick or it could be a few weeks.”

The rest of Christmas Eve passed as if I was in a daze.  Lani and the kids arrived, my dear friend Judy arrived after a marathon charity event and the smell of gammon and roast lamb permeated the house.  The tables looked festive, and there were tons of gifts under the tree.

Vic handed out the gifts.  The kids shrieked with delight.  A  lot of thought went into the gifts.  The gifts were truly gifts of love.

3 There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under the heavens:

   a time to be born and a time to die,

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Vic, Lani and Tom

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Thank you God 17.12.2012 – One year ago


Thank you God

I just finished a batch of choc-chip cookies.  The house is quiet and sweet smell of the biscuits has permeated the air.  The Christmas tree lights are flicking and the first batch of gifts beautifully wrapped.  It is the season of Christmas. Two weeks ago I despaired that Vic would not live to see Christmas. Dr Sue came and saw Vic this morning.  She lanced the cellulitis abscess on Vic’s arm.  My baby girl was so brave!! Sue told us of a young man who came to see her in her rooms with a small abscess in his face.   He cried with pain.  Sue told Vic what a brave person she is…I was so proud of my little girl. Vic’s heart and pulse rate is very elevated.  She has a kidney infection.  Kidney infections make her tired. I just checked on Vic, and she is sleeping so peacefully.  She has a serene expression on her beautiful face, and she is truly pain-free tonight. Sitting here I am counting my blessings. My baby girl is home.  I cannot begin to imagine how difficult it would have been if Vic lived elsewhere or if she was married or involved.  I can now care for my child without having to consider my “position” in her life.  I am able to be her mommy and take care of her. The boys are settled and happy living with us.  We love having them so close to us.  They are such well-behaved, kind and helpful boys!  Before Vic moved home the boys, mainly Jared, had to cook most days.  Now they are able to be children. Life has settled into an easy routine.  We have laughter and fun.  We cry and despair.  We hug.  We talk and constantly affirm our love for one another. Vic is spending a lot of time with her boys – talking.  She helped with the preparations for Jared’s 16th birthday party.  Vic passed me the spices when I baked this year’s Christmas cakes.  We laughed when we decided the cake needed another “splash of brandy”.  Vic “chose” her Christmas Cake. My wonderful husband is such an amazing person.  He is my rock and pillar.  He loves and protects us. I am happy and content with our lives. Thank you God for this time of closeness.  

Love you forever


“Who is it that loves me and will love me forever with an affection which no chance, no misery, no crime of mine can do away? It is you, Mother” Thomas Carlyle