Watch your tongue – Cherylfoston


This is so brilliant – often words are spoken without a second thought of how our words will affect the recipient…  Please read this and let’s all try to be kinder and more considerate. Reblogged from http://whatcherylsaid.wordpress.com/2013/08/27/the-big-reveal/ Watch Your Tongue

 ♦ AUGUST 27, 2013 ♦ LEAVE A COMMENT

Trust-timeline-lies-copyOuch! That hurts! Are you aware that some people are very good at using a razor blade with a smile? The words that come out of their mouth is so smooth, so sweet and so soft spoken, that it may take you a moment to realize you’ve been cut! While you are standing there bleeding, or maybe hemorrhaging, they are putting the razor blade away while asking you “What’s the matter, sweetie?” Most times the person is speaking the truth, but speaking the truth is not what this is about! How the truth gets told is what this is about. Because a sweet, gentle, smiling razor blade is still a razor blade!

The majority of people are open to hearing the truth when it is said in a way they can hear it. Yet, no one wants to hear you when you make them out to be wrong, or when you attack their weaknesses. People don’t hear what you are saying if you are saying it to make yourself look better than they are. Don’t in anyway make the mistake of thinking that the people you speak to do not know what you really mean. They do! If there is an ounce of judgment, criticism, or degrading in what you say, they are not going to hear you. Matter-of-fact they are going to totally tune you out!

If you want to make sure that people hear you talk about difficult or uncomfortable situations, you must speak to them from your heart. Yes, you must be real and honest, but you must speak to them with compassion and concern. Maybe you feel the need to finally confront that friend you feel only comes around when they want something. Maybe you have a young adult child that has been walling out lately and you need to have a good heart to heart to get them back on track. Pretend you are their teacher, their healer or the person that will lead them to the next level of spiritual and emotional growth. I know it can be a little challenging sometimes, especially when you are talking with teens or young adults. Yet, you want to be sure they really hear what you are trying to convey to them and are not just listening.

In order to make that work, maybe you can test your approach out on yourself, by telling yourself some truth about yourself that is difficult for you to hear. Then once you have figured out how to speak more lovingly toward yourself, you will be able to throw out the razor blade and begin speaking in a more loving tone to others.

We whisper your name…


Some days I sense Vic’s closeness. I sometimes smell her. But I cannot touch her. I cannot hear her voice.

The boys and I light candles for you my precious baby…

We whisper your name

The boys write your name in the sand…

You send us feathers from Heaven….

How we miss your brave smile…

How I miss reaching out and being able to touch you

Holding you my precious child…

Yesterday, today, forever……

I love you Angel Child!

“Time takes us farther away…”


I have battled to blog. I feel that my words are rehashed from one post to the next. My emotions are the same.

My DiL and the three girls have spent 3 weeks in South Africa. It has been amazing hearing the patter of little feet down the passages, shrieks of laughter and anger… I will always cherish the little arms around my neck, the warm little bodies in my bed. I cherish the time I got to spend with my DiL; the chats into the early hours of the morning and the countless cups of tea. It reminded me of when Vic was still alive. I dread leaving England on Monday to return to my solitude and grief.

I feel guilty about posting my same tearful stories of grief and I feel guilty that I have become embarrassed by exposing my soul to the world – friend and foe alike.

The past four weeks life has been easier. I have laughed and smiled. I have had fun.

In 8 days’ time it is Vic’s birthday. I am filled with trepidation as to how I will cope. The second I think of Vic, tears well up in my eyes and there is this stabbing pain in my heart. I have decided that I will not move Vic’s ashes into the garden. Vic will remain on the sideboard where I can see her and run my hand over her little casket. Vic will not be exiled into the garden. She is part of our lives and she will remain exactly where she is.

I am wondering whether I should bake Vic favourite chocolate cake… The boys want to send up Chinese Lanterns we actually wrote messages on, on New Year’s Eve 2010. Vic was desperately ill in hospital and moved into ICU on the 1st of January 2010. She was devastated. The staff allowed us to spend the evening with her.

Vic being moved to ICU on New Years Day 1

At 12 O Clock we went outside to send up the Chinese lanterns. It rained and we undertook to do it when Vic was home again. Somehow we never did. When we returned to the ward, the staff had assembled in the visitors lounge. Someone had conducted a Mid-Night service. The staff sang beautifully and prayed for the patients. Many of them laid hands on Vic. Vic cried. Jon-Daniel was inconsolable. We all cried.

One of my blogger friend’s sent me this email “Oh, Tersia. You are held tight in the grip of horrific grief. Simply knowing that someday you will wrench free from such a suffocating grasp brings no relief at this moment. You already know you cannot fight it. Flow with the “ocean of tears.” A great deal of the horror is behind you, but you are reliving it. I distinctly remember that the WORST time in my grief came at six months and followed me until the end of the first year. Like an amputation without anaesthesia – you are deeply suffering and so many people feel your pain. Keep writing, crying and feeling. The ocean of tears will take you to a new shore. Time takes us farther away from our loved one. That is the agony and the anaesthesia. Such conflict that creates! Feel my hug because I’m with you.” http://judyunger.wordpress.com/

Another one of my blogger friends, Julie, is taking a sabbatical from blogging. She wrote “Just until my heart catches up with my voice. So much is happening, and so much is not happening – argh!”

I wonder whether my heart will ever catch up with my voice…

William Penn


“They that love beyond the world cannot be separated by it. Death cannot kill what never dies.” ~ Williams Penn

nPosted from WordPress for BlackBerry.

Selfless love


Albrecht_Dürer_-_Praying_Hands,_1508_-_Google_Art_Project

“Selfless love means to love regardless of your personal needs. You love whole heartedly without loving yourself, without any personal gain. It is the opposite of selfish love.” http://www.ask.com/question/meaning-of-selfless-love

We live in a world where we are encouraged to develop our own individuality. We are brought up in a competitive world.  The desire to “win” or “be superior” to others often dominate our lives and the lives of our children.

We subconsciously seek to gain “something” from situations and persons we encounter. Many people enter into relationships in order to fill the huge gap of longing to be whole. This desire-based motivation is the main obstacle to loving unconditionally.

When we evaluate and categorize everything through the filter of past experiences, we calculate love through feelings of attraction, aversion, or indifference, and our behavior reflects this.

In this process, we miss any possibility of true love.

When I read this amazing story about selfless love I felt I had to share it.  True and selfless love is rare…

Reposted from http://morningstoryanddilbert.wordpress.com/2013/08/13/2616/

Vintage Dilbert
August 13, 2003

Back in the fifteenth century, in a tiny village near Nuremberg, lived a family with eighteen children. Eighteen! In order merely to keep food on the table for this mob, the father and head of the household, a goldsmith by profession, worked almost eighteen hours a day at his trade and any other paying chore he could find in the neighborhood. Despite their seemingly hopeless condition, two of Albrecht Durer the Elder’s children had a dream. They both wanted to pursue their talent for art, but they knew full well that their father would never be financially able to send either of them to Nuremberg to study at the Academy.

After many long discussions at night in their crowded bed, the two boys finally worked out a pact. They would toss a coin. The loser would go down into the nearby mines and, with his earnings, support his brother while he attended the academy. Then, when that brother who won the toss completed his studies, in four years, he would support the other brother at the academy, either with sales of his artwork or, if necessary, also by laboring in the mines. They tossed a coin on a Sunday morning after church. Albrecht Durer won the toss and went off to Nuremberg.

Albert went down into the dangerous mines and, for the next four years, financed his brother, whose work at the academy was almost an immediate sensation. Albrecht’s etchings, his woodcuts, and his oils were far better than those of most of his professors, and by the time he graduated, he was beginning to earn considerable fees for his commissioned works.

When the young artist returned to his village, the Durer family held a festive dinner on their lawn to celebrate Albrecht’s triumphant homecoming. After a long and memorable meal, punctuated with music and laughter, Albrecht rose from his honored position at the head of the table to drink a toast to his beloved brother for the years of sacrifice that had enabled Albrecht to fulfill his ambition. His closing words were, “And now, Albert, blessed brother of mine, now it is your turn. Now you can go to Nuremberg to pursue your dream, and I will support you.”

All heads turned in eager expectation to the far end of the table where Albert sat, tears streaming down his pale face, shaking his lowered head from side to side while he sobbed and repeated over and over, “No … no … no … no.”

Finally, Albert rose and wiped the tears from his cheeks. He glanced down the long table at the faces he loved, and then, holding his hands close to his right cheek, he said softly, “No, brother. I cannot go to Nuremberg. It is too late for me. Look … look what four years in the mines have done to my hands! The bones in every finger have been smashed at least once, and lately I have been suffering from arthritis so badly in my right hand that I cannot even hold a glass to return your toast, much less make delicate lines on parchment or canvas with a pen or a brush. No, brother … for me it is too late.”

More than 450 years have passed. By now, Albrecht Durer’s hundreds of masterful portraits, pen and silver-point sketches, watercolors, charcoals, woodcuts, and copper engravings hang in every great museum in the world, but the odds are great that you, like most people, are familiar with only one of Albrecht Durer’s works. More than merely being familiar with it, you very well may have a reproduction hanging in your home or office.

One day, long ago, to pay homage to Albert for all that he had sacrificed, Albrecht Durer painstakingly drew his brother’s abused hands with palms together and thin fingers stretched skyward. He called his powerful drawing simply “Hands,” but the entire world almost immediately opened their hearts to his great masterpiece and renamed his tribute of love “The Praying Hands.”

 

A picture of the "Praying Hands" Can be found at:
 https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10201402047003494&l=1d9c179e7e

 

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I miss you Angel Child


At 10.35 today it will be exactly 7 months since my beautiful child lost her battle to live.  It will be 213 days…..

  • 18,403,200 seconds
  • 306,720 minutes
  • 5112 hours
  • 213 days
  • 30 weeks and 2 days

306265_414915845264516_1681744410_n

Aging….


I am so grateful that I am no longer young. I received this in an email and thought I should share it!!As I’ve aged, I’ve become kinder to myself, and less critical of myself.

I’ve become my own friend.


I have seen too many dear friends leave this world, too soon; before they understood the great freedom that comes with aging.


Whose business is it, if I choose to read, or play, on the computer, until 4 AM, or sleep until noon? I will dance with myself to those wonderful tunes of the 50, 60 &70 ‘s, and if I, at the same time, wish to weep over a lost love, I will.


I will walk the beach, in a swim suit that is stretched over a bulging body, and will dive into the waves, with abandon, if I choose to, despite the pitying glances from the jet set. They, too, will get old.


I know I am sometimes forgetful. But there again, some of life is just as well forgotten. And, I eventually remember the important things.


Sure, over the years, my heart has been broken. How can your heart not break, when you lose a loved one, or when a child suffers, or even when somebody’s beloved pet gets hit by a car? But, broken hearts are what give us strength, and understanding, and compassion. A heart never broken, is pristine, and sterile, and will never know the joy of being imperfect.

081113_2215_Aging6.jpg

I am so blessed to have lived long enough to have my hair turning grey, and to have my youthful laughs be forever etched into deep grooves on my face. So many have never laughed, and so many have died before their hair could turn silver. As you get older, it is easier to be positive. You care less about what other people think. I don’t question myself anymore. I’ve even earned the right to be wrong. So, to answer your question, I like being old. It has set me free. I like the person I have become. I am not going to live forever, but while I am still here, I will not waste time lamenting what could have been, or worrying about what will be. And I shall eat dessert every single day (if I feel like it). 

!cid_15_31527390@web162103_mail_bf1_yahoo

Mother and Child


In the 206 days since Vic died I have never missed her as much as now.

My UK daughter-in-law and her three girls are visiting. The poor little poppets have all had a gastric bug. The girls are amazing and I love them with every fibre in my body and they love me too. What struck me once again this week is that incredible bond between a mother and daughter. When a child is ill they want their Mommy. There is no substitute for a Mommy.

Dr Christiane Northrup, author of the book Mother-Daughter Wisdom (Hay House), says: “The mother-daughter relationship is the most powerful bond in the world, for better or for worse. It sets the stage for all other relationships.”

No other childhood experience is as compelling as a young girl’s relationship with her mother. Mothers impart on their daughters how she feels about being female, what she believes about her body, how she takes care of her health, and what she believes is possible in life.

Jennie Hannan, executive general manager of services at counselling provider Anglicare WA, agrees. “How a woman sees herself, how she is in her adult relationships with partners, and how she mothers her own children, is profoundly influenced by her relationship with her own mother,” she says.

When Vic was ill she wanted her Mommy. Last year, when she had her arm operation, she was so distraught in ICU that the staff asked me to stay with her around the clock. With each and every major surgery she ever had (excluding one knee operation), my face was the first she saw. Vic knew that I stayed outside the ICU until she was released into the ward. More often than not, I was not allowed to sit with her all the time but she knew I was there.

I am not exactly gifted in sewing or knitting… (It was the only subject I ever failed at school) yet I knitted Vic a massive blanket in 2007 sitting outside ICU and next to her hospital bed. I only ever knitted at hospital and I am a very slow knitter. If we had buried Vic I would have buried her wrapped in her blankie… My life ground to an absolute halt when Vic was in ICU or hospital.

Witnessing this incredible bond the past 2.5 weeks has brought back incredible memories of Vic sitting on my lap, her little arms curled around me and her head nestled into my neck. That incredible trust and reliance between us.

My daughter-in-law and I sit and chat into the early hours of the morning. She has a happy disposition. Her life revolves around her family. She has an easy laugh and great sense of humour. If ever I went into a Quiz Show and there was show business section I would want her next to my side. When she goes to bed she gives me a hug. I love this woman for her kindness and compassion.

I realised how much I have missed that companionship, our chats into the early hours of the morning. Somehow it truly made me realise that my child is dead and I am alone.

Jared, Vic’s eldest has come down with the girls’ gastric bug. His dad brought him home early because he wanted to be home…. He got straight into bed. I sat down next to him and asked him how he was feeling. I could hear the tears in his voice when he said “really ill…” I could hear the forlornness in his voice; his longing for his mother to be sitting on his bed.

Dear Mommy…                                                             Words could never explain what you mean to me…It always meant so much to me that no matter how bad you felt or how sick you were, you always went out of your way to do anything and everything you could for us… Always going out of your way to make everyone’s life easier especially mine…

You were always my hero… No matter how sick you were every morning you woke up and got dressed. Even if you didn’t do anything you always looked your best…

I love you so much mommy… You made such an impact on everyone’s life that you will never be forgotten…you will forever live in our memories as the bravest woman and best Mommy of all time…

No one will ever be able to replace you…

Jared

Jared is alone today. Jon-Daniel lit candles for Vic when he arrived home. Jon-Daniel is alone today.  How can such a tiny, sickly person leave such a horrific void in our lives? A mother and a child cannot be substituted or replaced. It is as simple as this.

Precious Vic, we miss you so much!!  We are all feeling miserable without you.  We miss that incredible bond we had with you.  We want you back at home.

Precious Gift – adapted



When times seemed too hard to bear and I felt like giving up
I saw your beautiful face, the twinkle of your eyes and things of such
The bond we created from my womb to the day you were born
Is a mother and daughter bond that can never be torn
With the strength and guidance of God and the blessings He pours down from above
I wanted to be the best mom I could be to you and embraced you with all my love
You were as precious as a flower and as gorgeous as a rose
You were specially made to the very tip of your nose
You were as sweet as honey; such an innocent young child
You were brighter than any star in the sky every time you smiled
I wanted you to be proud of who you were and strive to be the best
I taught you to put effort into achieving your goals and let God do the rest
I was always your mother, but also your friend
You are the most precious gift, that I’ve ever been given

With All My Love,

Mommy

Precious Gift © Sherri Lawrence

Source: Precious Gift, Mother Daughter Poem http://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/precious-gift-2#ixzz2bezERmvm
Family Friend Poems 

 

That flight…


Aarthi Raghavan has once again honoured Vic and I with a beautiful poem… Aarthi is a brilliant poet whose work I love! This poem moved me to tears
I honestly know nothing about Aarthi. I do not know whether Aarthi is male or female, single or married, childless of parent…All I know is the heart of this amazing poet.

Aarthi has a pure and compassionate soul, is giving and soulful…Thank you Aarthi for these beautiful words and remembering my precious child.

You have a Gift! And you share it!

After I read this post I printed it and went outside and sat on the swing in Vic’s Angel Garden. The sun was gently setting and the air was cool. I felt Vic’s presence next to me. I feel stupid to write this but I spoke to her out loud. I told her how much I missed her and how huge the void is in my life without her. I read Aarthi’s words to Vic.

I felt her presence in the breeze, I heard her whisper “I love you Mommy” I felt at peace.

Thank you Aarthi for remembering Vic and honouring her with your beautiful words!!! You would truly have adored her.


that flight.

by ART


Vic and Tersia.. they occupy many of my thoughts, day, night, or times when I look for inspiration.. not words.. just inspiration.. that can make me smile, make my heart beat soft, constant and in comfort… I wish to dedicate this poem to a wonderful mother and her amazing daughter, for I know they are inseparable :)

often she smiled
thought to herself
why she had to deserve
all that which was unfair

she thought about her mom
her tears, her smiles
her heart beating in worry
and out of care, out of deep love

she lived her life like none of us
she smiled for special reasons
not fake, real special they were
for they reached your heart

they tried so hard
to seek happiness together
make memories forever
loving all that was on offer

even in the middle of
uncertainties
they managed
to share their stories

they made me wonder
of the beauty of love,
motherhood
of all things truly beautiful in this world

that flight
which she eventually took
must have been beautiful
freeing her from a lot of things

making her ever more precious
in our hearts
in our memories
in our thoughts
in our lives…

i wish i could have seen her
in person
made her smile
and then had a chance
to smile with her

it would have been bliss
indeed
to have a friend like her
to have been happy as her
for she is truly special…

:) I love you guys.. and I love your words Tersia… I will forever be glad to have met you.. even if it were through words…

http://citystone.wordpress.com/2012/10/23/to-vic-and-her-wonderful-mom/

http://citystone.wordpress.com/2013/08/06/that-flight/

https://tersiaburger.com/tag/httpsickocean-wordpress-comauthormysticparables/

http://sickocean.wordpress.com/category/poetry/

http://citystone.wordpress.com/2013/08/06/even-if-i-write-it/

Where is Auntie Vicky’s skin?


Those of you that follow my blog will know that my UK grandkids are visiting. They are the cutest, brightest and busiest little girls in the world. They are a source of immense pleasure and joy in my life.

They left South Africa exactly two years ago. I cried for a week. In the two years I have seen them 5 times. In terms of international travel it is a lot but in terms of a grandmother’s heart it is not nearly enough. When they lived in South Africa we saw them at least once a week.

Osama (the eldest terrorist) is 5.5 years old. She is bright as a button and full of tricks. She told me, in confidence, that when she turns 6 she is going to marry her “boyfriend” Freddy… I tried to use the impending marriage as a bargaining tool to encourage her to help tidy up her room.

Me: “Sweetie if you want to marry Freddy you will have to learn to tidy your room. What do you think his Mommy will say if she sees your toys lying around? He won’t marry an untidy girl…”

Osama: “That’s okay Oumie. Then I will marry someone else…”

This little girl has a mind of her own. She is heartbreakingly beautiful. Her eyes sparkle with the joy of life and intelligence. She is also kind and caring (a little manipulative as well). She has me twisted around her little finger! She also has an amazing memory!

She was 3, 5 years old when they left South Africa.

She was so excited to visit South Africa and kept sayings things like “I remember your big (dining room) table; where will I sleep? In my old room?” She always throws in the odd “Do you remember….?” She remembers their South African home and her school. She remembers the sunshine. She remembers Vic.

“Oumie….why did Auntie Vicky die?” is her daily question.

Her mommy and daddy have told her that Auntie Vicky’s soul is in Heaven with “Baby” Jesus… She is happy that Auntie Vicky is no longer sick. The big question is however “Where is Auntie Vicky’s skin?”

This is a difficult question to answer honestly. If I told the little poppet that her precious Auntie Vic is lying on the antique sideboard table, in a little box with a brass plate on the lid, she would be distressed… So I sort of implied that she was buried…

“Is Auntie Vicky’s skin in a box (coffin)?” she asks

“Yes” I would say. “But remember, Auntie Vic does not need her skin anymore. She has a new skin and beautiful angel wings in Heaven.”

“Is Auntie Vicky a Zombie?” – She shivers and says “Oooohhhhhh, I am so scared of Zombies!”

“No sweetie, she is an angel.” I said

I am sharing an excellent guide to help

the young, understand something that most adults battle with! http://www.hospicenet.org/html/understand.html

Children’s understanding of Death is provided by Hospice of Southeastern Connecticut Bereavement Program. This chart is meant to be used as a guideline and not a checklist. All children develop at different rates and it is important to remember that the parents know their own child the best.

Newborn to Three Years
Child’s Perception: Infant/Toddler can sense when there is excitement, sadness, anxiety in the home; can sense when a significant person is missing, presence of new people

  1. No understanding of death
  2. Absorbs emotions of others around her/him
  3. May show signs of irritability
  4. May exhibit changes in eating, nursing patterns, crying, and in bowel and bladder movements
  5. Depends on nonverbal communications; physical care, affection, reassurances

Providing Support:

  1. Keep normal routines and structure whenever possible
  2. Be verbally and physically affectionate and reassuring
  3. Provide warm, loving caretaker when parent is not available
  4. Exhibiting healthy coping behaviors

Three to Six Years
Child’s Perception: Child thinks death is reversible; temporary, like going to sleep or when a parent goes to work; believes that people who die will come back

  1. “Magical thinking”; believes their thoughts, actions, word caused the death; or can bring deceased back; death is punishment for bad behavior
  2. Still greatly impacted by parent’s emotional state
  3. Has difficulty handling abstract concepts such as heaven
  4. Regressive behaviors; bed wetting, security blanket, thumb sucking, etc.
  5. Difficulty verbalizing therefore acts out feelings
  6. Increased aggression – more irritable, aggressive play
  7. Will ask the same questions repeatedly in efforts to begin making sense of loss
  8. Only capable of showing sadness for short periods of time
  9. Escapes into play
  10. Somatic symptoms
  11. Hungers for affection and physical contact, even from strangers
  12. Connects events that don’t belong connected
  13. May exhibit little anxiety due to belief that deceased is coming back

Providing Support:

  1. Keep normal routines and structure whenever possible
  2. Provide opportunities to play, draw
  3. Read books on death & loss with child
  4. Help to verbalize feelings and fears
  5. Help to identify feelings and reactions
  6. Be honest and tell a child if you do not have an answer
  7. Explain in specific, concrete language – not euphemisms; explain what has happened giving specific explanations about physical reality of death
  8. Gently confront magical thinking
  9. Make sure child does not feel responsible for the death
  10. Be tolerant of regressive behaviors
  11. Modelling healthy coping behaviors
  12. Avoid clichés; “At least you have another brother”, “You can always get a new pet”
  13. Use specific, concrete words – not euphemisms; Avoid “Mommy has gone to sleep”, “God has taken Grandpa”

Six to Nine Years
Child’s Perception: Child begins to understand the finality of death; some do and some may not.

  1. Sees death as a taker or spirit that comes and gets you
  2. Fear that death is contagious and other loved ones will “catch it” and die too
  3. Fascinated with issues of mutilation; very curious about what body looks like
  4. Connects death with violence and may ask, “Who killed him?”
  5. 3 categories of people. who die: Elderly, handicapped, klutzes
  6. Asks concrete questions
  7. Guilt – blames self for death
  8. May worry how the deceased can eat, breathe, etc.
  9. Continues to have difficulty expressing feelings verbally
  10. Increased aggression
  11. Defends against feeling helpless
  12. Somatic symptoms
  13. School phobia (especially if single parent)
  14. Continues to have difficulty comprehending abstractions such as heaven, spirituality

Providing Support:

  1. Talk with child
  2. Ask questions
  3. Make sure child’ does not feel responsible in any way
  4. Identify specific fears
  5. Provide opportunity for play, drawing, art
  6. Normalize feelings & fears
  7. Address distortions & perceptions
  8. Be honest and tell a child if you do not have an answer
  9. Help to cope with impulse control
  10. Help them share bad dreams
  11. Help them with positive memories of the deceased
  12. Model healthy coping behaviors
  13. Avoid clichés; “Don’t worry, things will be O.K.”, “You’re such a strong boy/girl”
  14. Use specific, concrete words – not euphemisms; Avoid “Grandma went to sleep and is now in heaven”, “Grandma was very sick and the sickness made her die”

Nine to Thirteen Years
Child’s Perception: Child’s understanding is nearer to adult understanding of death; more aware of finality of death and impact the death has on them

  1. Concerned with how their world will change; with the loss of the relationship, “Who will go with me to the father-daughter banquet?”
  2. Questions have stopped
  3. Fragile independence
  4. Reluctant to open up
  5. Delayed reactions – at first seems as if nothing has happened, then grief reaction May show strong degree of affect
  6. Beginning to develop an interest in rituals (spiritual effects of life)
  7. Disrupted relationships with peers
  8. Increased anger, guilt
  9. Somatic symptoms
  10. School phobia
  11. Self-conscious about their fears (of own death, remaining parents)

Providing Support:

  1. Encourage discussion of their concerns
  2. Provide & encourage expressive experiences such as writing or drawing
  3. Address impulse toward acting out and allow opportunity to identify their feelings
  4. Allow for regressive behaviors
  5. Be honest and tell a child when you do not have an answer
  6. Gently relieve child from attempts to take over adult responsibilities
  7. Model healthy coping behaviors
  8. Avoid clichés; Avoid “You must be strong so I don’t have to worry about you”, “Big boys don’t cry”

Thirteen to Eighteen Years
Adolescent’s Perception: Adolescent has adult understanding about death

  1. Death is viewed as an interruption. Death is an enemy
  2. Bodily changes emphasize growth and life. Death is a contrast
  3. Increased vulnerability due to many other changes and losses simultaneously occurring
  4. A sense of future becomes part of their psychology
  5. Increased risk taking in effort to reduce anxiety or to defy fate
  6. May intellectualize or romanticize death
  7. May act indifferent to death of someone close as a protection against feelings
  8. May show full range of affect or almost no affect
  9. Wants to grieve with her/his peers not adults
  10. May need permission to grieve
  11. Suicidal thoughts
  12. Represses sadness, feels anger, depression
  13. Escapes; drives fast, uses drugs or alcohol sexually acts out
  14. Denial – tries not to think about it, doesn’t want to talk about it
  15. Difficulty with long term plans
  16. Somatic symptoms
  17. Questions religious/spiritual beliefs

Providing Support:

  1. Don’t assume they can handle themselves and their problems without help, support
  2. Be available, but don’t push
  3. Help them find peers who will support their feelings
  4. Or find other trusted adults
  5. Give permission for regression
  6. Be honest and say when you do not have an answer
  7. Assist in relieving adolescent of burden of adult responsibilities
  8. Help impulse control toward reckless behavior
  9. De-romanticize death
  10. Discuss feelings of helplessness
  11. Model healthy coping behaviors
  12. Avoid clichés; “You’ve got to be strong to help your mother”; “You seem to be taking this so well”, “Now you’re the man of the house.”

200 days


Today we lit candles in remembrance of Vic dying 200 days ago. My mind keeps crying “No! It is not true!” The void in my heart and life shrieks “Yes, it is!”

I met with a new Hospice patient today. She is in her early 60’s, petite, bright, friendly, positive and so unbelievably brave! She is also in denial and dying.

“I believe I will wake up one morning and I will be healed!” she said

Her skin has discoloured from the chemo, her eyes are turmeric yellow and her belly is very extended. Her feet and legs are dreadfully swollen. I believe that she is close to death. Yet this incredible woman is determined to go to the office from the 12th of August until the 27th of August as her replacement is on leave then…. I doubt that she will live that long!

I sat there and it was déjà vu… It was as if I was listening to Vic planning next week, next month and next year…. I heard her husband encouraging her to write letters, finalising her will. I shared with them how Vic had labeled every piece of her jewellery, given strict instructions on what had to happen to her possessions, planned her own funeral…

“Am I correct when I say that I hear you saying your child died?” the patient asked.

“Yes” I said. “200 days ago today”

“I cannot believe that you can talk about your child’s death! You are smiling and look so normal” she said. “When our son died we could not talk about it. We cried all the time…”

“Death is not the enemy. I prayed for my child to die…” I said.

“It is okay to cry” they said

“I cry every day” I said

BEST POEM IN THE WORLD


BEST POEM IN THE WORLD.

Bravery Takes Many Forms


IdealisticRebel's avataridealisticrebel

It is Sunday and if you follow my blog, you know that means I am showcasing a talented child. Ok, talented is understated but you will understand when you hear young Malacki sing. I hope you enjoy his voice as much as I did. I hope it raises you up all day long.

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My blog


ImageFor the second time this year I considered closing down my blog.  I have truly agonised about it.

I have thought about why I blog.  I weighed up my options…

  1. Close down the blog
  2. Start a new blog
  3. Post anonymously
  4. Change the privacy settings on my blog
  5. Stop blogging

I originally started blogging to document Vic’s journey.  I am grateful that I did.  There are days that I miss Vic so much that I would give anything to have her back.  Now I am able to reread my words…..

Today has been a very, very bad day. Sr Siza was here when Vic had a violent vomiting spell. Yesterday Vic fractured a vertebra again. Her pain is out of control. Her breathing was shallow.

“I don’t want Jon-Daniel to see me now Mommy. It freaks him out when I can’t breathe” Vic pleaded

I lay behind her back, gently holding her whilst the tears wracked through her little body.

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.

Over the past 10 years I have seen my child suffer so much indignity and indescribable pain.  I have seen the despair in her eyes, the helplessness in the eyes of her boys….I have stood next to her bed and physically pulled my hair in frustration – tears pouring down my cheeks.  I have wept before God and prayed for Vic to die.  I begged God to take away her suffering.

Now I remember her laugh, her eccentricities, her will to live, her strength of character, her mothering skills and most of all the fun times we spent together.  

I am grateful for my blog.  I am grateful for the love and companionship I found here.  I am grateful for the advice from other bereaved mothers.  I am grateful for the blogs of other mothers further down the road than I am – reading about their ongoing pain I know that I am not going mad…that my pain is “normal”.  

I KNOW I am doing well.  

I am grateful that I can come back here and remember who meant so much to my precious child in her last days.  I am grateful that I have something to remember by because I can remember very little of Vic’s last week of living and the weeks that followed.  

This blog is no longer about Vic’s journey.  Her journey has ended.  Vic’s Journey has become my journey. This blog is about my emotions, my thoughts, my life and honouring Vic’s memory and life.  

I can “IGNORE” and “DELETE” written comments that may be controversial or offensive.  I will not sensor my thoughts or emotions.  This blog belongs to me.  It is a coping mechanism and my support group… If people don’t like what I blog about they have the choice to “unfollow” me.

I ask that people who read my blog see my heart, my pain, my isolation in my grief.  Allow me to mention my child’s name.  I am never going to “get over her death.”  I am not asking for sympathy or pity.  Just the right to write my words and thoughts uncensored.  

To all my cyber friends – Thank you for your love and support.  Thank you for sharing this journey with the boys and I.  I will continue to blog to honour my memories of my precious child.  I want the world to know this brave young woman and her incredible battle to live.  

Vic’s greatest fear was that she would be forgotten…  I vowed to her that I would keep her memory alive.  I blog for my child.  I will not dishonour her battle by blogging anonymously. She wanted people to know, to learn, to grow out of her suffering.  Vic was a beautiful human being filled with goodness and love.  She deserves her story to be known.

Vic, I salute you my precious and beautiful child.  I miss you with every fibre of my body.  I promise you that you will never be forgotten.

RELATED POSTS:

https://tersiaburger.com/2012/12/20/i-dont-want-to-die/

https://tersiaburger.com/2012/12/25/a-time-to-be-born-and-a-time-to-die/

https://tersiaburger.com/2012/12/18/the-right-to-live-with-dignity/

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I resonate with these words….