Tonight Jon-Daniel will be honoured for his brilliant school marks. I suspect that he will be awarded honours for the second time in his highschool career. Vic so desperately wanted to be there last year. It was not to be.
This year, I know, she will be there cheering for her precious son.
Congratulations my Genius! Oumie is so proud of you!!!!
Yesterday the sun set on our tears and longing. This morning I lay awake watching the sun send it first rays through the silhouette of the oak tree in our garden.
“Rays of hope” I thought.
I lay there, my eyes still heavy with tears and sleep thinking how grateful I am that my child’s suffering is over…
Yesterday was a day filled with selfish sadness. All I could think of was how much I miss Vic; how empty my life is; how much pain we are in… For one day I “forgot” her terrible suffering. Her tears of pain and frustration. This morning I thought back to Vic vomiting pure, bright red blood, crying “Mommy I broke another vertebrae”.
This morning I remembered that Vic had absolutely no quality of life. I remembered my fear that her suffering would never end… I remembered my prayers, pleading with God to end Vic’s suffering. 
So, today I will allow peace back into my heart. I will do my best to be a good back-up mommy to the boys. I will try to live with my pain. And when sadness threatens to overwhelm me I will force my mind back to Vic’s words “I can’t do this anymore”. I will remember the indignity that she lived; her tears…
I will remember my baby girl’s laugh; her beautiful eyes; the rich texture of her hair. I will honour her pure heart, compassion and goodness.
I will celebrate the fact that Vic is now free of pain, indignity and loneliness. I will visualize Vic running free in Heaven.
Rest in Peace my Angel Child. You are ALWAYS in my heart.
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…
A 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.
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.
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)
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
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
I had stopped all visits. It was family time. Our little family united in the trauma of our loved one’s dying.
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.
“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.
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.
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:
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.
So despite me saying that Vic does not know how to die she is actually having a textbook death…
It 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.
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…
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.
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.
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…”
I hate my life. I wish I were dead.
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
Reading 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…”
Photo – wikipedia.org – licensed under CC 2.0
Rosemary is a wonderful herb with a tradition of use spanning millennia. It has innumerable uses in both the kitchen and in herbal medicine.
Did you know that rosemary has been associated with memory enhancement since ancient times? It is true – and it has even been referred to from the latter part of the Elizabethan Era to the Early Romantic period as the herb of remembrance. In Shakespeare’s Hamlet, Ophelia says, “There’s rosemary, that’s for remembrance.” (Hamlet, iv. 5.) It has also long been used as a symbol for remembrance during weddings, war commemorations and funerals in Europe and Australia. [1] Mourners in old times would wear it as a buttonhole, burn it as incense or throw it into graves as a symbol of remembrance for the dead.
It seems that this tradition of Rosemary may actually far more ancient and have its origins in the Arabic world of medieval times, which was greatly advanced in science: In Henry Lyte’s 1578 “Niewe Herball“, an English version of Rembert Dodoens’ French treatise, it is written “The Arrabians and their successors Physitions, do say that Rosemarie comforteth the brayne, the memory and the inward senses, and that it restoreth speech, especially the conserve made of the flowers, thereof with Sugar, to be received daily.” [2]
Because of this seemingly esoteric association, rosemary has at times been made into a sort of herbal-amulet, where it was placed beneath pillowcases, or simply smelt as a bouquet, and it was believed that using rosemary in these ways could protect the sleeper from nightmares, as well as increase their memory.
What’s fascinating is that several scientific studies have now found remarkable results for rosemary’s effects on memory:
Rosemary essential oil’s role in aromatherapy as an agent that promotes mental clarity was validated by the study of Moss, Cook, Wesnes, and Duckett (2003) in which the inhalation of rosemary essential oil significantly enhanced the performance for overall quality of memory and secondary memory factors of study participants. [3]
More recently, in 2012 a study on 28 older people (average 75 years old) found statistically significant dose-dependent improvements in cognitive performance with doses of dried rosemary leaf powder. [4]
Another study by Mark Moss and Lorraine Oliver at Northumbria University, Newcastle has identified 1,8-cineole (a compound in rosemary) as an agent potentially responsible for cognitive and mood performance.[5]
Further studies by Mark Moss and team have found memory enhancements of up to an amazing 75% from diffusion of rosemary essential oil. [6]
Now if you are asking “How is it even possible that an aroma can enhance memory?” – well, that’s a great question. Here’s a fascinating quote from one of the scientific papers referenced: “Volatile compounds (e.g. terpenes) may enter the blood stream by way of the nasal or lung mucosa. Terpenes are small organic molecules which can easily cross the blood-brain barrier and therefore may have direct effects in the brain by acting on receptor sites or enzyme systems.” [5]
I’m interested to know if anyone uses rosemary as a memory enhancer. Maybe you could take some with you next time you have an examination and see if it helps with recall? One last tidbit to inspire you further:Lavender. In a 1998 study published in the International Journal of Neuroscience, rosemary was found to increase alertness but lavender was found not only to increase alertness but also to increase accuracy in math tests! [8] The way this is going, I can sense the possibility of a magical custom oil blend for total recall! 
Rosemary is very easy to grow in many gardens and will provide an abundant supply – almost too abundant! Just the other day when paying a Christmas visit to my family, I cut a few sprigs from my Dad’s organic rosemary bush (rosemary is an evergreen!), left them on a radiator to dry for a few days and then put the needle-like leaves in a jar, ready for use in the kitchen whenever required. So aromatic… and much better than the store-bought stuff I had before!
Another thought that springs to mind from this – here we have yet another example of an ancient herbal lore that has been validated by modern experiments. This happens again and again – and yet still the remarkable herbals, lost treasures of the ancient world are considered spurious by modern medicine. If an herb has been in use for a thousand years for a condition, it should be considered probable that there is something to it. When are we going to catch up with ancient knowledge? Let’s hope soon – while there is still some untarnished, un-GMO-ed nature left…
This scientific discovery was brought to our attention by the remarkable Robert Tisserand, whose work on essential oils is considered by many to be among the very finest. Check out his original pages reporting on the memory effects of Rosemary here http://roberttisserand.com/2013/04/new-rosemary-memory-research/ – and here http://roberttisserand.com/2012/03/rosemary-boosts-brain-power/
References:
[1] Henry Lyte “Niewe Herball”, 1578, p.264 http://books.google.com/books?id=ifxNAAAAcAAJ&pg=PA264
[2] http://www.awm.gov.au/commemoration/customs/rosemary.asp
[3] Moss M., Cook J., Wesnes K., & Duckett P. (2003). Aromas of rosemary and lavender essential oils differentially affect cognition and mood in healthy adults. International Journal of Neuroscience, 113(1): 15-38. Retrieved 24 March 2013 from http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/12690999
[4] http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/21877951
[5] http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC3736918/
[6] http://roberttisserand.com/2013/04/new-rosemary-memory-research
[7] http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/3671550
[8] http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/10069621/
Where blood does not run, it gushes….
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.
Vic's Final Journey 