Dying is a lonely journey. Not only for the sick person but also for the family. As hard as we may try to avoid death, the truth is that we do a lousy job of it. Science and medicine will certainly postpone it, even staying healthy might seem to delay it, but the harsh reality is that death does not wait for you, it does not ask you, and it does not listen to you. Death ignores your feelings and wants; you do not matter to death…Death is the only certainty in life! We need to remember that our existence here is fragile, and we never have as much time with people as we think we do. If there is someone or someones out there that you love, don’t neglect that and don’t put off engaging with them because waits for no-one… Vic's Journey ended on 18 January 2013 at 10:35. She was the most courageous person in the world and has inspired thousands of people all over the world. Vic's two boys are monuments of her existence. She was an amazing mother, daughter, sister and friend. I will miss you today, tomorrow and forever my Angle Child.
2 months, 6 days or rather 65 days totalling 93,600 minutes or 1560 hours since Vic died…. Each minute feels like a lifetime of misery.
Every minute that passes pushes me further down into this horrible well of misery and despair.
Vic was an absolute coffee addict. She would systematically drink her way through a 200g bottle of Jacob Kronung coffee per week. Vic drank a minimum of least 15 cups of coffee every day of her life. Vic stopped drinking coffee just before Christmas. It made her ill. She starting drinking Energade – naartjie flavour. For the last month of her life it was all she drank.
Well, Vic’s last bottle of coffee is almost finished…I am dreading anyone asking for coffee…I want the coffee to last. It is a link to my child. How stupid does this sound?? Stupid or not it is the way I feel. I have an unused bottle of coffee in the pantry. I am weeping because of an almost empty bottle of coffee!
At night I lie on my sofa in my TV lounge waiting for her to either BBM or shuffle down the passage… “Could I please have some coffee Mommy?” I have cried myself into oblivion this weekend. Danie is in Cape Town and the boys are with their Dad. It is safe to cry.
I am a mess. I have cried myself to sleep every night this past week. I tear up without reason.
I have this indescribable longing to see my child, hold her and be with her. I went onto Vic’s Facebook and went through all her photos. Most of the photos on her FB are “tagged” photos of mine. I went through the photos and “spoke” to Vic. I remembered the wonderful mother and daughter that she was. I looked at her journey, the amount of photos where she is in bed with the boys lying with her. The sad thing is that it is truly only the tip of the iceberg.
I found this note on her FB that I had never seen before. Vic posted this 3 days before my dad died.
17 May 2011 at 23:37
Today Hospice came to access my Grandfather… They dripped him & made him comfortable. He has lost his swallowing reflex, sleeps most of the day, is completely bedridden & can barely talk… The suddenness of his deterioration is very difficult to comprehend. Please could you all say a big prayer for my Gramps and especially my Mom, who lost her best friend of 25 years, age 51 due to a heart attack last Tues. My Mother is one of the strongest, bravest people I know.. How do we say goodbye, how do I take my Boys to say their Goodbyes tomorrow, how do we accept that this incredible man has such little time left regardless of the fact that we all know that its best for him. How can I be strong for my babies when my heart breaks all over again, every day when I see him… Especially my Eunice Friends, you will all remember how desperately my Gramps and Gran loved and spoilt me and how VERY MUCH they meant to me… I don’t want to live without him even though I realise that is extremely selfish, but I love my Grandfather so desperately, It’s not fair… All I ask for is compassion… Compassion for Gramps and my Mother… Thank you to everyone for all your love & support through everything… Love Vic.
Vic and her Gramps
I understood Vic’s agony of saying goodbye to us better… I have doubted our decision to sedate her during the last few days of her life… Reading this today I was filled with gratitude that we did. I remembered her emotional agony when her friends left after a visit… I remember her clinging to Danie and crying “Don’t leave me daddy. I am scared…” I am grateful that she gently slipped away without knowing or fearing what lies beyond…
I wonder whether she is around us? I wonder if she is peaceful and happy? I wonder if she misses us as desperately as we miss her.
Mothersday 2012
Yesterday a friend of mine celebrated her 60th birthday. Her daughter posted a beautiful letter on her FB page. Tears started trickling down my cheeks. I will never receive another birthday card or wish from Vic. I will never celebrate another Mother’s Day with Vic and neither will her boys!!
I am at a stage where it feels as if it is impossible to recover from the pain of losing Vic. I am told that the grief will gradually get better and become less intense as time goes by.
The first few days after Vic died was so intense. Family and friends cried, and we comforted one another. The house was busy with people coming and going. The planning that goes into a funeral and the writing of the eulogy took a lot of time. My grief was raw and incredibly intense. My heart physically ached. I experienced feelings of anxiety, panic, sadness, and helplessness. Yet it is actually a surreal feeling… it felt as if we were removed from the world. It felt as if I looked in from the outside. I heard myself speaking and reacting mechanically…Old school friends phoned and I rushed to get through their words of condolences so I could ask them about their lives. I did not want to discuss Vic’s death. They must have thought I was crazy.
People said “you are so strong…”
When a loved one dies at home I think it is harder afterwards…There is a “mystique” to the room of death. The smell of death lingers and the room is littered with medication, blood pressure equipment, thermometers and syringe containers. Bedpans and vomit-dishes are still in the bathroom…
The planning of Vic’s memorial service actually helped me get through the first days after her death. Friends and family spend time with us talking and sharing memories about Vic.
Many times, people show their emotions during this time of ritual. Overwhelmed by Vic’s death we actually did not show emotion right away — even though the loss was very hard. We stood amongst our friends and family at the reception after the memorial service smiling and talking. To the world it must have appeared as if we were strong and accepting of Vic’s death. Being among other mourners was a comfort; it sort of reminded us that some things will stay the same.
But the time came when the far-away family left, friends went back to their lives and the steady flow of visitors stopped. In a way it was a relief. We were forced to stop and come to terms with the reality of the situation….the pain of the loss and the enormity of our grief.
Within a week we were back at work and school. People were and still are wary of us – they do not know how to handle our grief. We quickly learnt that other people are not interested in our grieving process…We stopped talking about Vic’s death…But although we no longer continuously talk about our loss, the grieving process not only continues but intensifies.
It’s natural to continue to have feelings and questions for a while after someone dies. It’s also natural to begin to feel somewhat better. A lot depends on how your loss affects your life. It’s OK to feel grief for days, weeks, or even longer, depending on how close you were to the person who died. I was told yesterday by someone who truly loved Vic that Vic’s death is only a reality when they are in our home. When they leave it almost becomes a distant memory….
The loss of a child is different to the loss of a parent. The boys’ grief is different to my grief… I will go further and say that the grief of a teen is different to the grief of an adult child who lost his aged parent.
Vic’s death has been a devastating, distressing experience in the life of the boys. Although the boys have spent the majority of their lives in our home their sense of security and stability in the world has been turned upside down. Vic’s death has become the defining event in the boys lives. The boys have begun to define their lives into two categories: “before Mom died” or “after Mom died.”
The boys and I have experienced a sense of relief, ambivalence; guilt and regret after Vic’s passing. The boys have categorically expressed their sense of relief that Vic’s intense suffering and pain is over. I prayed for Vic to die. This sense of relief has however brought on more guilt!
Jon-Daniel was the first of the boys who had to cope with the realization that Vic would not be around to celebrate rites of passage; Vic slipped into a coma the day Jon-Daniel received his school’s honours award for academic achievement…..
The boys are battling to cope with Vic’s death. Their grief is intensifying.
On the 8th of April they will meet the Hospice Psychologist. On the 25th we are flying down to Cape Town for 13 days. We need a change of scenery. We need to grieve without being told to “let Vic rest…”
I make a point of telling them that I miss their Mommy too. They light candles for Vic. I cry in my pillow.
I know that the boys will eventually move on. It is the way it is – children bury their parents. It is normal. But a parent should never have to bury their child…
For 38 years my beautiful child was the centre of my life. I lived for her. Now I merely exist.
I hear her say “Mommy I love you” and I whisper “I love you more than life angel child…”
This is a very emotional time in all our lives. It is 8 weeks and 2 days since Vic died. We have all lived on our nerves for a long time and although we thought it would be a relief that Vic’s suffering was over, the grief has been overwhelming. Not only for the boys and I but also others that loved Vic…
I know the family is concerned about me. I know their concern stems from love.
I however need to blog. I need to hear from other bereaved parents that I am not going mad. That my grief is normal and that it is okay to grieve for my beautiful child.
I have subscribed to several blogs or sites for bereaved parents and it is not working for me. It is other parents words.
I will however borrow these words from another grieving parent
Dear Clueless
I would like to share with you my pain but that isn’t possible unless you have lost a child yourself and that I wouldn’t want you to have to experience. So with that being said, I would like to say this. I will try to my best to understand you if you try to understand me. I lost my child. My life will never be the same. I will never be the same again. I will be different from now on. I no longer have the same feelings about anything. Everything in my life has changed from the moment my child left to go to heaven. I will, on some days be very sad and nothing you say will changes that so don’t feel like it is your job to make me feel better on those days, just allow me to be where I am.
When you lose a child you not only lose your reason for living, you lose the motivation to go on. You also lose your sense of self. It takes a long time to come to some kind of understanding for why this has happened, if ever. Of course we who have lost children know we have to go on but we don’t want to hear someone else tell us too. Especially from someone who has not lost a child. It makes me and anyone who has lost a child want to say who are you to tell me that? Did you bury your child? I don’t want this to sound like I don’t appreciate everything you say because I know you mean well, but I just want you to appreciate where I am coming from too. I want you to understand that some of the things you say hurt me and others like me without you really knowing it. I know it must be pretty hard to talk to people like myself, not knowing what to say. That is why I am writing this letter.
If you don’t know what to say, say nothing or just say I’m sorry. That always works for me. If you want to talk ad say my child’s name feel free I would love to hear his name anytime. You not saying his name didn’t make me forget it, or what happened to him. So by all means say his name. When special dates come or holidays come please forgive me if I’m not myself. I just can’t keep it up on those days. I may wish to be by myself so I can think about my child without putting on a front. Most of all I want you to know I’m having a hard time with the death of my child and I am trying my very best to get back into life again. Some days it may look like I have accomplished that, and other days like I am at square one.
This will happen the rest of my life periodically. There are just no words to explain the living hell this feels like. There are no words that could ever do it justice. So please bear with me and give me time and don’t put your own timetable on my grief and let me be the person I am now and not have to live up to the person you think I should be. Allow me my space and time and accept me for me. I will try my best to understand you.
So, if you are going to read my blog read it through my eyes and see my heart. If you are unable to handle the rawness of my words know that you are reading my soul. Remember that I don’t easily verbalize my emotions and this blog is my coping mechanism.
I have found hundreds of notes and journal entries in a file called “Our Story.” Vic loved my blog and wanted me to share “Our Story”. It was her wish. I will continue to do so.
So, love me in my time of sorrow and allow me to cope whichever way I can…. I love you too and appreciate your caring.
I am systematically packing up Vic’s belongings. It has been a humongous job! Vic was a squirrel – she hoarded! I have discarded hundreds of old VCR tapes….thousands of photos and many hundreds of cards. The “Good luck with exam cards” were totally wasted on Vic – I came across her school reports again…; get better cards, I love you cards and thank you for your friendship cards from her school friends; lots and lots of Valentine cards… The one card that got to me was a card that read:-
“To My Daughter
So many times
When you were a child,
I looked upon your
Sleeping face
And wondered
What kind of woman
You’d grow up to be?”
Then on the inside of the card it reads “You grew up as wonderful as I imagined” Today I can categorically state that was not true. Vic grew up to be a far more wonderful person than I could ever have imagined. Vic was kind and generous. Vic always smiled. Vic loved unconditionally and never judged. Vic was devoid of bitterness and hate. She never spoke unkind words. Her bravery goes without saying… Vic is the bravest person I know. Vic always said “I am fine thank you…” The shrillness of the “fine” was the “stress-indicator” of how ill she was.
The cards her school friends wrote were to thank her for her friendship and support. Gia wrote on the 26th of March – year unknown: “This is just a short note to say thanks for all your help, attention, help and love while I’ve been under the weather…” On the 28th of October 1991 Tatum wrote “You’re a great friend and I am dreading this time next year when we all have to say goodbye. Thank you for being you and putting up with me…” Monique wrote “Thanx for everything. You know what everything is.” One of the Vicky’s wrote “as friends we have walked together sharing joy, laughter and tears. Though time may pass and things may change, I’m sure you’ll agree, That one thing always stays the same…each other’s loyalty” Mouse wrote “Vicks thank you for willingly giving help – be it a smile or a thoughtful thought – It may go unnoticed but it is appreciated” Gia ended most of her notes, cards and letters with “I’ll meet you at the end of the earth”
I truly felt like a grave robber going through Vic’s private correspondence. I cannot keep it all – there is just too much and I did not want to discard her whole life. So I have made a memory box of all her school dance invitations and photos, her friends’ notes, some boyfriends’ letters and her theatre season tickets. I have added some of the hundreds of cards I sent her over the years. Yes…Vic kept them all!!!!
How can I just wipe out her lifetimes memories? Vic treasured these items and I will keep it safely for her grandchildren to see one day… This memory box is her memory box. A tribute by her friends… It was an experience to “see” Vic in high school. Vic insisted on going to boarding school in High School, and she was accepted at one of the most prestigious girl schools in South Africa. Vic LOVED the freedom and camaraderie of boarding school. She got up to a lot of mischief! I have now personally seen the photos of what the girls got up too… But I am so glad.
I have come to realise that I never truly allowed Vic to grow up. I was an over protective mother and quite honestly maybe even a little overbearing. Vic always remained a child. Albeit a mature child and an old soul but never the less a child. From the day my beautiful baby girl was born I knew I had to protect her from the world. She was too tiny and beautiful for this horrible world we live in. Now my beautiful baby girl is safe from pain, hurt and the ugliness of the world.
This poem was written by Tony Doiron. I assume from the words that Tony lost a child too… This poem really got to me. My child was just older and could walk, talk and count… Thank you for your beautiful words Tony.
You were lying in my arms, As I tried to say goodbye, “It is for the best”, they said, And I knew that was true.
I gazed at your little hands, Given to us that day, You wouldn’t feel pain again, But I wanted you to stay.
You fought for every breath you took, Never letting go, Until one day God made you His, Leaving all of us below.
Although you couldn’t walk or talk,
Or even count to ten,
Your short life had more impact,
Than a hundred million men.
Today it is exactly six weeks since my precious child died. It has been such a rollercoaster ride.
I have gone from feeling numb and “accepting” to the deepest pit of despair and sorrow. I have gone back to working and trying to live a “normal” life again. I have laughed and cried. I have learnt to keep my sorrow to myself.
I have however had days this week where the sadness overwhelmed me. I have felt that I am drowning in it. The house is empty. I miss Vic’s smile. I miss her hugs. I miss our chats and text messages. I miss her smell and touch. I miss my daughter and friend.
It is a mere 6 weeks, and I don’t know whether I will ever heal. I know it is early days, but I also know my heart.
Judy Unger sent me these words and today I am posting it because it articulates EXACTLY how I felt this past week. Thank you Judy! It is as if the realization of Vic’s death only hit home this week….
I MISS MY CHILD!!!!!!!!
MY TEARS FILLED AN OCEANCopyright 2011 by Judy UngerWhen you died my tears filled an oceanI was violently submerged, gasping and barely able to stand the shockSwirling in a raging current, a current of timeI was paralyzed and choking, wanting to drown, but unable to sinkThe current dragged me along. It seemed endless . . .Soon all my energy was gone. Anger at my fate depleted me furtherI was going to somewhere unknown. The journey was filled with horrorI tried not to look while fighting to escape from the endless driftExhaustion led to floating. The current kept movingFighting it was useless; there was no going back to where I began…
Today, Jared (16) was called in by the school psychiatrist.
The psychiatrist spoke to him at length about the stages of grief. Jared loves facts.
Thanks to Google I am well versed in the stages of grief and constantly try to monitor where the boys are in the process. I did not stop to think that knowing the stages, in detail, would give them a sense of comfort.
Ten years ago we were told by the doctors that Vic had maybe 5 years to live. The boys were then 6 and 4 years old.
At the age of five, a child may have thought of death as a deep sleep from which the person would eventually awaken, (like the princess in Sleeping Beauty). At seven, the child may believe that only grandmas and grandpa’s and other elderly folks can become ill and die—but not little kids or their parents. Age 12 they know that death can happen at any time…
Jared developed a sugar problem at the age of 6…due to the stress of Vic’s illness. Over the years he has developed a weight problem as he stress eats. His school marks have dropped and he has lost interest in sport, his friends and life. He is a Type 2 Diabetic.
On the surface Jon-Daniel appears to be coping far better than Jared.
He excels in school and has immersed himself in sports or hobbies. I think what may really be at work here is a defence mechanism known as sublimation. I believe thatJon-Daniel has over the years subconsciously channeled his strong feelings of grief into a more “socially acceptable” outlet. He directs his attention solely to areas where he feels comfortable. It is his way of regaining control over a world that has been jolted out of orbit.
Having the intellectual capacity to grasp the implications of death doesn’t necessarily equip teenagers to cope emotionally with the tragedy. Adolescents typically appear to feel grief more intensely than adults, especially if one of their parents has died. The Adolescent Life Change Event Scale (ALCES), which mental-health specialists use to help quantify the events that are the most stress-inducing in teenagers, ranks a parent’s death as the number one cause of adolescent stress. Second is the death of a brother or sister, followed by the death of a friend.
The stress started years before Vic died. The boys grew up knowing that their Mommy was ill and in a lot of pain. The realization actually only hit home with them in 2007 when we told the boys on a couple of occasions that Vic was dying. In hindsight it would have been better if we never told them but at the time I believed it to be the right thing to do. I could not lie to the boys and tell them Vic was doing well when she was fighting for her life on a ventilator and the doctors were turning off the ventilator.
It was clear with Jon-Daniel over the years that he harboured resentment towards Vic when she was in hospital. In his eyes Vic abandoned them…his way of coping was to “harden” his heart. He would literally ignore her or act up when she was ill… Over the past year he however “softened” his attitude towards his sick mom.
Because adolescents are so sensitive about their “image”, they may feel self-conscious or outright embarrassed by displays of grief and struggle to suppress their emotions. This can also be a means of protecting themselves.
As a family we experienced “anticipatory grief”. During the past year especially we resorted to black humour. There is no “right way” or “wrong way” to mourn. Jared told me today that he asked his Church councillor last year whether you can mourn someone whilst they are still alive….
Grief is often expressed in one of the following ways:
Depression
Changes in conduct or acting-out behaviours
“Perfect” behaviour
A decline in academic performance
Refusing to attend school
Turning to alcohol or illicit drugs to numb the emotional pain
Seeking solace through a sexual relationship
Overeating or under-eating
Sleeping more than usual or not getting enough sleep
Physical symptoms
It is said that a teenager who loses a parent is also subconsciously mourning the end of the childhood he’d led up until now. However in the case of Vic the boys have potentially regained a childhood…I just hope and pray it is not too late for them to have a childhood.
Five Stages of Grieving
Shock / Denial
This is a protective mechanism that helps the person to function for the time being. With denial, the person may refuse to believe what happened. For instance, one teen was waiting for her friend to come to her graduation party and kept texting him to see when he would be there. Finally, she got a call from his sister telling her that he was killed in a motorcycle accident. She refused to believe he was dead, however, and reacted by telling the sister she was lying. Of course, his friend was experiencing shock. During shock, the person can function as though nothing happened, but may feel like she is in a surreal world or place.
Anger
Often there is blaming others for the loss or lashing out at people. Sometimes people act out their anger in other ways. The mother of a teen realized she was blaming her son for causing his own death after she began telling his friends, “Please, don’t do this to your mothers.” In essence, she was saying to her son, “Look what you’ve done to me.” The anger needs to be processed, though. The mother began to realize that her son was a teenager and that teenagers take risks. Teenagers’ brains aren’t fully developed in the area of judgment, so they don’t gauge risks the same way as an adult. Also, there were other factors that contributed to her son’s death besides his risk-taking behavior. Working through the anger helps a person to move through the other stages of grieving.
Bargaining / Magic
This often involves either cutting a contract with yourself, asking your higher power to take you out of the situation or fantasizing that this is some sort of dream and tomorrow you’ll wake up and it will never have happened. This stage helps the person to feel some control over the situation. For example, when one mother saw her son in the hospital emergency room lying dead in a body bag after all attempts of resuscitation had failed, she laid over his body begging God to breathe life back into him, praying for a miracle.
Depression / Grief / Sadness
This stage involves a lot of “what ifs.” The person now turns the anger inward and blames herself for the loss. Often this is false guilt, though, and the person really had no control over what happened or no real way to prevent it. This stage provides an opportunity for the person to grow spiritually and perhaps further develop spiritual beliefs as she searches for the meaning or purpose of life, death, pain and suffering. Even if the person is somehow at fault, perhaps the person’s actions or shortcomings are being used as part of a greater plan.
Acceptance / Forgiveness / Resolution
Accepting the loss doesn’t mean you like what happened. It does mean that you are trusting that life can be good again in spite of the hurt and pain the loss has caused you. Sometimes we need to forgive the loss or perhaps someone who has directly caused our pain or grief. Forgiving means letting go of bitterness and revenge, which only harm us and not the offender. To be unforgiving means we are not moving on and letting go, but continuing to allow ourselves to be hurt by the other party or the loss. We feel more powerless when we keep wanting something from others that they cannot give us. Perhaps this is an apology or maybe a change of heart. Nevertheless, we can always grow and move on without seeing any change in the other person or getting back what was taken from us. We take back our power in the situation when we begin reversing the negative consequences in our lives and perhaps by finding new purposes and meanings for our lives. http://www.cincinnatichildrens.org/service/s/surviving-teens/stressors/grief-loss/
Grief never ends, but it does change in character and intensity. Grieving is like the constantly shifting tides of the ocean; ranging from calm, low tides to raging high tides that change with the seasons and the years. I know this from my parents and BFF deaths.
We will meet with the Hospice councillor that the boys saw last year – they connected with him. Maybe it is time to start Jared on an anti-depressant….
We love the boys so much. I wish we could wrap them in cotton and protect them from the world. They are so beautiful and have these AMAZING personalities. They are not difficult or rebellious teenagers.
On the 22nd of February I posted on a blotched back operation that Vic had and ultimately lead to her death. https://tersiaburger.com/2013/02/22/4027-days/
A family member commented “I hope one day you can forgive him, for he didn’t know what he was doing. I checked with Vicky, and she did.”
I know Vic had made peace with the surgeon. She died with no feelings of hatred in her heart. She bore no-one ill. Vic was a gentle, loving people-pleaser.
I am not. I have a dark side to me. I do not tolerate fools or bullies easily. I hate the surgeon and his compatriot in blotched surgery, Dr V, with every fiber of my being. He KNEW what he was doing. He admitted later that it was an experimental procedue…
I know exactly what the Bible says about forgiveness. I know how bitterness and hate affects one’s life. I know it robs one of your joys. I have read that you cannot enter Heaven if you have not forgiven. I have however also read, and choose to believe what is written in the Old Testament – an eye for an eye….
I received this lovely little anecdote today and thought, very sanctimoniously, that I would share it. When I however sat down and started typing I realized that I would be a hypocrite if I pretended to just pass on the moral of the story.
Hatred (or hate) is a deep and emotional extreme dislike that can be directed against individuals, entities, objects, or ideas. Hatred is often associated with feelings of anger and a disposition towards hostility. Commonly held moral rules, such as the Golden Rule, oppose universal hatred towards another.
The Bible refers to hatred between 71 and 93 times in the Bible – depending on which version you read.
Both the Old and the New Testaments deal with hatred. David, in the Psalms, thanks God for destroying those that hate him, and thanks Him for hating his enemies.[1] This is the era of wars and kingdoms; armies destroy enemies, hate is political and military. But it is also domestic: David’s sons hate each other, and Absalom will kill his half-brother after the latter rapes and spurns his sister. And after banishment, Abasalom will hate his father and try to destroy him. However, the Old Testament also contains condemnations of hatred. For example, ” thou shalt not hate thy brother in thy heart”.[2] In the New Testament, hatred focuses on the soul. Evil is internalised and the focus of hatred becomes that part of the heart, the sinning self. The New Testament also clearly condemns hatred. Jesus contended that “whosoever hateth his brother is a murderer and you know that no murderer hath eternal life abiding in himself.”[3] But all people are, according to the gospels, sinners, and only have to look inside of themselves in order to find sin. Loving good means hating sin and turning from vice. Love, as Aquinas[citation needed] teaches, must be divided into love of good things, the healthy movement of the soul true to itself, and love of inappropriate objects, the desire to have and use what may be bad for the soul.- Wikipedia
So herewith the anecdote…
A kindergarten teacher decided to let her class play a game.
The teacher told each child in the class to bring along a plastic bag containing a few potatoes.
Each potato will be given a name of a person that the child hates.
So the number of potatoes that a child will put in his/her plastic bag will depend on the number of people he/she hates.
So when the day came, each child brought some potatoes with the name of the people he/she hated. Some had 2 potatoes; some 3 while some up to 5 potatoes. The teacher then told the children to carry with them the potatoes in the plastic bag wherever they go (even to the toilet) for 1 week.
Days after days passed by, and the children started to complain due to the unpleasant smell let out by the rotten potatoes. Besides, those having 5 potatoes also had to carry heavier bags. After 1 week, the children were relieved because the game had finally ended… The teacher asked: “How did you feel while carrying the potatoes with you for 1 week?” The children let out their frustrations and started complaining of the trouble that they had to go through having to carry the heavy and smelly potatoes wherever they go.
Then the teacher told them the hidden meaning behind the game. The teacher said: “This is exactly the situation when you carry your hatred for somebody inside your heart. The stench of hatred will contaminate your heart and you will carry it with you wherever you go. If you cannot tolerate the smell of rotten potatoes for just 1 week, can you imagine what is it like to have the stench of hatred in your heart for your lifetime???”
Moral of the story: Throw away any hatred for anyone from your heart so that you will not carry sins for a lifetime. Forgiving others is the best attitude to take!
Newsflash: I pray that I will find forgiveness in my heart for the good doctors but tonight my eldest grandson is lying in his room, reading a book of poetry Vic left him, crying for his mother. Nothing that I do or say can make his pain less or bring his mommy back.
So that stench of hatred…I will live with it. It fuels my hatred.
A glimpse into Vic’s life and soul…a journal entry she made on the 24th of March 2003
“And so it begins. Tomorrow is the first surgery of this year. My poor children. My family. This is so difficult. I am panic-stricken, but not about the surgery. I promised Jared we would have a nice school holiday. It’s his first holiday and he was so excited about staying home with his mommy. I’m his mommy…. Do you know that? It doesn’t always feel like it. Do you understand? Do you know what I mean? I’m sure you know what I mean. It doesn’t always feel real. I carried them. I gave birth to them but there are days when they don’t even feel like my children. What if I die tomorrow? Are they going to remember me? What have I really meant in their lives? Everyone is so amazing about my bone disease that I sometimes feel smothered by their love. Does that make sense? Does that make me ungrateful? I feel so guilty. People have been unbelievable. I never knew that there were so many special people in this world. I have been carried on the wings of their prayers.
My poor children. I already miss them. I know this sounds jumbled but that is how I’m feeling. I feel like there is a hole in my stomach. I never slept last night. Again. I always think that Col and I will be closer or at least loving the day before my ops because everyone else is. But it never is that way. People are so amazing. Everyone phoning and wishing us well and saying prays for us, but then I don’t get to spend any time with the children or Colin. We land up shouting at the kids, because they keep trying to get our attention. We try to eat and the phone rings. We try to bath and the phone rings. Colin asked me to send off some documents, to the auditors and I promised I would do it this morning and by the time he got home I still had not done it, which already irritated Col. So I sent them off while Col and the boys ate dinner and my food stood getting cold. What if I die tomorrow? I wouldn’t even have enjoyed my last dinner with my family.
Mom does placements in East Africa and I help out by making the phone calls and making appointments for the interviews. (I get paid for it, very well at that). And I really enjoy doing it. It is something that I know I am good at. I am an organiser by nature. I become obsessive with the details and the smaller details to make it go smoothly. The only thing is that mom only found out last night that we needed to do 6 placements and the guys from East Africa are coming on Monday and mom still needs to do the filtering process before they arrive. Today is Wednesday. Tomorrow is hospital. Mom starts interviewing Friday. She is interviewing on Saturday as well. Mom always says if you want something done give it to a busy person. But today, I feel swamped. I like things in little neat packages. Not disorganised. I specially kept Jon-Daniel home because of me going to hospital and I did not get to even have a game of fingerboard with the children. I only found out on Tuesday that I was being operated on Thursday. I haven’t packed yet. Col and I are bickering, because I’m not getting to him and today he had a very important meeting with his boss. And we couldn’t get around to talk about it. It was about his package. We are really battling financially. But that’s another story. (I know you know what I’m talking about. We all go through it at some point in our lives.) I was so proud of Colin. To approach his boss for an increase was extremely difficult for him. It has taken him 4 months to do it. Colin is very proud. I think most men are, but Colin comes across as very blasé, which he really isn’t.
I become tearful when I think of going back to hospital. It is so difficult for me and people don’t understand that I’ve built up such a resistance to hospital. What really hurts is that I spend so much time in hospital that people don’t come and see me especially if I’m only in for a few days. Life just keeps going on. Nothing changes. It was the same after my father died 3 years ago. I so wished life would stand still and mourn with me.”
Today we had our first real family get together after Vic’s memorial service. It was Esther’s birthday on the 20th of February.
I was uncertain about how the boys and I would handle it. It was our first family get together without Vic.
I was amazed at how much less time the cooking and baking took….not because there was one person less to cook for, but because there was no interruptions….I was always up and down the passage checking on Vic, helping her go to the bathroom, giving her meds or injections, cleaning up vomit… Sometimes I would check on her and we would just end up chatting or watching Cake Boss….
Vic always tried to help…poor little poppet! She would ask over and over again “How can I help Mommy?” If the truth be known she only got in my way but I loved the “us” time… Sometimes I would ask her to add the cheese to the cheese sauce whilst I stirred… She would take great pleasure in telling everyone that we baked or cooked….
Jared and I went off to Driving School this morning. I would get home just in time for the boys to set the tables under the trees in the garden and for me to finish off the meal.
Everyone arrived and the house was filled with happy, excited voices and the sound of children running around. It was a perfect summer day. For the first time in a long time lunch was ready, not a single dish burnt or spoilt…. My grandchildren are ALL fussy eaters. For once they ate all their food and went back for seconds and even thirds…
Esther told us that Yuri (6 years old), my youngest grandson, had a show and tell at school. He spoke about his family. He showed the class a photo of his mom, dad and brother. He also showed them a camping photo of him and his daddy. He told his class he was so lucky to have three grans and two granddads… His “gran number 3 is cool because she builds armoured vehicles and gives him lots of sweets”. I am gran number 3….He showed his class a photo of Vic and told them that she was his “beloved” aunt Vic who is already in Heaven with Jesus… Apparently the class of pre-schoolers all appropriately “ooh-ed and Aaah-ed”…
I cried a quiet tear.
Kari and Simone individually came up and hugged me. “How are you Ouma?” they asked with real concern…All the grandchildren are sleeping over tonight. The house is alive with their youthful enthusiasm and energy.
It was a lovely day and a wonderful evening. I missed Vic so much – at times I walked away because I had teared up again… It will always be great to be with loved ones, but it has changed forever.
There was an extra setting at the table and an empty seat….The boys unthinkingly set a place for their mom….Old habits die-hard!
Eleven years and ten days ago Vic had her first blotched back surgery that lead to 81 abdominal surgeries. She lived another 4027 days with excruciating pain, indignity and misery because of the ego and arrogance of a neurosurgeon. Her little body systematically being destroyed by the sepsis left behind by an idiot doctor.
Dr FS, you arrogant fool, you stole my daughter’s life, you stole a mother from two young boys, you stole her smile, her joy, her laughter, her marriage, her hope! You gave her despair, pain, a mangled broken body, faeces running out of her intestines into a bag, an open wound.
You coward, you would not face me in the passages of the Milpark ICU. You denied me the truth. You stole my child’s life!
You called my child a morphine addict. You withheld opiates from her after surgery. You SAID that the sepsis in the Pro-disc could be stopped with antibiotics…It was not necessary to remove and replace it…. 4027 days later it took her life…. Her little body riddled with infection, her body burning up with fever! For 4027 days she suffered!
You condemned my child to 11 years of horrific suffering and misery. Not a single day of her last 4027 days was she without pain.
I wish you saw her tears of pain whilst she was packing her little boys lunch boxes. I wish you heard her 4-year old son say “Don’t worry Mommy. I made my and my brothers beds because your back is sore”. I wish you saw the despair in her sons eyes. She was never able to give them a “normal” life. You ensured that they spent their childhoods in their sick mother’s bedroom and not in the garden playing ball with her…
I still hear her saying “Mommy I am so sore even my ears ache…”
What do you hear? The crisp sound of money? Certainly not my little girl’s screams’ of pain!
If only you said those magic words…”I am sorry….” You arrogant fool the only words you uttered were “I refuse to accept that I am the cause of Vicky’s condition…”
Coward! I hate you. You have my daughter’s death on your conscience. I hope you rot in hell!
I want to thank Tracy Rydzy – http://ohwhatapain.wordpress.com/author/ohwhatapain/ for nominating me for the Liebster Award…Tracy suffers debilitating, chronic pain but bravely soldiers on with life. I have great admiration for her and her blog. Her blog gave me unbelievable insight into Vic’s pain. Thank you Tracy!!
I graciously and humbly accept.
Rules of The Liebster Award
1. You must thank the person who gave you this award
2. You must display the Liebster heart on your blog
3. You should nominate 7 other blogs
4. Each person must post 11 things about themselves
5. Answer the questions given to you by the blogger who nominated you
6. Create 11 questions for those you nominate to answer
7. Notify your nominees and provide a link back to your post.
As for the 7 blogs that I nominate: This is so difficult as there are many bloggers that I follows slavishly. They have become friends. These bloggers have been such a source of support! I hope I get another award soon, so I can pass it onto the rest of my favorite bloggers!
2. I smile and laugh when my heart breaks.
3. I love unconditionally
5. I love getting awards for my blog.
6. I have very few friends.
7. I love reality television…I am a reality junky.
8. I am a good gran
9. I love working – I am a workaholic
10. I think my husband is the most handsome man in the universe
11. I work in the arms industry
.My 11 questions:
1) What inspired you to begin blogging?
My precious child’s final journey whilst dying.
2) What’s your favourite blog post ever published by you? (so I can go read it!)
Being Treated Like a Drug Addict and Pain is Not Pretty.
3) What’s your favourite hobby?
Working and my grandchildren
4) Cats or dogs and why?
I am not an animal person. Cats freak me out.
5) Are you a city person or a country person?
I am a city girl longing to be a country girl…
6) Extroverted or introverted?
People think I am an extrovert but I am an “alone” person. Very few people ever get close to me
7) Are you a good judge of character?
Yes
8) What is your favourite genre of music?
Classical and country
9) Are you a morning person or do you prefer the night?
I am a night owl
10) Warm colours or cold colours?
Depends on the outfit.
11) 2 things you’d be miserable without for a day?
Tea and my family
11 questions for my nominees:
1) Are you addicted to your STATS?
2) What country do you live in?
3) How many friends would you have on a major birthday party guest list?
4) What is your favourite post?
5) Who is your inspiration when writing?
6) Introvert or extrovert?
7) Why do you read my blog?
8) Favourite quote?
9) Favourite holiday location?
10) How long have you been writing?
11) Favourite TV show?
Esther was the first of Danie’s children that I met, when we started dating. It was a couple of weeks before her wedding. I was so thrilled when she asked me to go with her for the final fitting of her wedding dress!
I will never forget her words to me in the car that day: “Don’t worry about us kids. Just worry about you and my dad”
I cannot remember whether I articulated my fear of her and her siblings, but she sensed it!
I was PETRIFIED of Danie’s four children. I did not particularly like children. Maybe my mind refused to accept the fact that I love children because I made the conscious decision to not subject a second or third child to Osteogenesis Imperfecta. The OI gene was passed onto Vic by her Dad, but we had been divorced for many, many years and I accepted that I could not have another child. I did not have space in my heart for another child.
I loved Vic with an all-consuming love. I did not always like her, but I always loved her!
I met the kids and I was petrified. They were livelier than any other children I had ever met with their own little quirks. I actually never dated a man with children until I met Danie!
We have been married for 22 years. For 22 years these amazing children have crept into my heart and firmly lodged themselves there. They have accepted me into their lives. They loved and nurtured my Vic. I am a punker bunker granny to their children…
Esther, is very outspoken, to the point, honest and an amazing wife and mother. She is loyal to a fault, independent and fiercely protective of her loved ones. Esther is compassionate and unbelievably intelligent. She has a superb sense of humour but very sensitive. She is an amazing person.
Esther nursed her husband through Stage 4 Colon Cancer. She researches nutritional sites for correct and healthy food. She is totally focused on her family and will demolish anyone or anything that threatens them.
5.10.2012
Esther was truly the sister Vic always wanted. There were times when things were rough between them. There were differences and some hurt. But…there was a gentle love between the sisters.
Esther popped in to visit Vic almost every day. They texted and BBM’d. They shared war stories about their children. Esther was Vic safety blanket… Esther would lie in bed with Vic and hold her hand. She encouraged and helped. As a pharmacist she was amazing in assisting us with Vic’s meds in the last couple of weeks. As a sister she told Vic to let go; that the boys were safe; that she was loved and would never be forgotten. She told Vic to go towards the light…. Jon-Daniel went to stay with her in the last days of Vic’s life. She was there when Vic left home the last time. She may have been there when Vic stopped breathing – I can’t remember. I know that she sprayed Vic’s favourite perfume on her before Vic left home….
1.1.2013
Esther and Leon with Vic 10.1.2013
So Esther, if you read this know that I love you deeply. Know that I respect you for the beautiful person you are and for being an amazing mother to my beautiful grandsons. Thank you for the joy you bring in your father’s life. He loves you with an intensity that is scary. When Vic died he cried and said he cannot imagine it being you…that he hoped you would end up on the same cloud one day….
Esther and her dad
Thank you for loving Vic the way you did. Thank you for comforting her in her hour of need. Thank you for coaching her towards the end of her life. Thank you for loving the boys and having compassionate conversations with them…. You know what I am talking about!
I wish you joy and happiness in the year ahead. I love and admire you.