Godliness of a mother


“The woman who creates and sustains a home and under whose hands children grow up to be strong pure men and women, is a creator second only to God”   Helen Marta Fiske Hunt Jackson

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Vic raised two magnificent young men.  They have beautiful manners, they are respectful to their elders and especially women.  They are gentle, compassionate and like their mom they speak badly of no one.  They have a wonderful set of values and morals.

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Vic had so little time to raise her boys.  She spent most of their lives in a hospital bed or in bed at home.  The boys grew up doing their homework in her room, helping her cook… Jared was four years old when he made his (and his brothers) bed.  “Because Mommy’s back is sore”…

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The boys are old souls.  They have witnessed so much pain and suffering… They have lived with, and cared for, a dying mother.

There was almost a Godliness to the way Vic raised her boys.  Vic taught the boys to love their Lord.  It shows in their pure hearts.  Her legacy lives on through and in her boys.

I am so proud of you my Angle Child.  You did good!

 

A mother’s love….. Day 5 of 48


A mother’s love is like God’s love;                                                                                                    He loves us not because we are loveable,                                                                                      but because it is in His nature to love,                                                                                          and because we are his children.  
Earl Riney
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You taught me love.  You taught me honesty.  You taught me to love unconditionally.  You taught me how to forgive and how to be strong.  You are the strongest person I have ever known.  You gave me strength when I was weak.  When times were sad and tough you reminded me to be grateful for the small things in life.  You taught me how to be myself.  Most of all you taught me about life and how to live. 

 

Nelson Mandela Dead at 95


December 5, 2013 5:03 PM ET
Former South African President, Nelson Mandela
Former South African President Nelson Mandela
Dave Hogan/Getty Images

Nelson Mandela, the Nobel Peace Prize-winning anti-apartheid leader imprisoned for decades before becoming South Africa’s first black president and an international symbol of freedom, has died at 95. He had long been battling complications from a respiratory infection.

Look back at Nelson Mandela’s life in photos

Mandela was at the center of sweeping changes across South Africa during a tumultuous period that saw the former Dutch and English colony transition from apartheid‚ a racist class structure in place since the early 1900s that limited the rights of black South Africans and codified rule by the white Afrikaner minority‚ into an inclusive democracy that enfranchised millions of non-whites who were deprived even of their citizenship under the repressive system.

His opposition to apartheid came with a cost: Mandela spent 27 years as a political prisoner for his association with the African National Congress, a black-rights group that sometimes resorted to violence in resisting the white government. Denounced as a terrorist and communist sympathizer, Mandela spent close to two decades of his internment in a dank concrete cell on Robben Island, where the glare of the sun during his work shifts in a lime quarry permanently damaged his eyesight. An international campaign resulted in his release from prison on February 11th, 1990. Negotiations soon followed with South African President F.W. de Klerk that led to the dismantling of apartheid four years later, when South Africa held a multi-racial general election that elevated Mandela to the presidency. In 1993, he and de Klerk were awarded the Nobel Peace Prize for their efforts.

As president, Mandela sought to repair rifts among South Africa’s factions and ethnicities, and he enacted a new constitution, appointed a diverse cabinet and established a Truth and Reconciliation Commission to investigate crimes committed under apartheid by the government and the ANC. He declined to run for a second five-year term, and left the presidency in 1999.

“Mandela shows what was possible when a priority is placed on human dignity, respect for law, that all people are treated equally,” President Barack Obama said while visiting South Africa over the summer. “And what Nelson Mandela also stood for is that the well-being of the country is more important than the interests of any one person. George Washington is admired because after two terms he said enough, I’m going back to being a citizen. There were no term limits, but he said I’m a citizen. I served my time. And it’s time for the next person, because that’s what democracy is about. And Mandela similarly was able to recognize that, despite how revered he was, that part of this transition process was greater than one person.”

Born to illiterate parents with distant connections to the ruling family in one of South Africa’s indigenous territories, Mandela spent his childhood tending cattle and attending a local Methodist mission school, which instilled in him a lifelong love of learning. His political awakening began when he developed an interest in his African heritage while attending a college for black students, and deepened while he studied law in the Forties, when he joined the ANC.

Mandela rose through the ranks of the ANC’s Youth League, which elected him national president in 1950. Inspired by Gandhi, he initially advocated nonviolent resistance before adopting a more militant outlook in the mid-Fifties as civil disobedience proved ineffective. He was first arrested in 1952 as part of a government crackdown on suspected communists, and he spent the next 12 years in and out of custody as he and the ANC worked to undermine apartheid. He was convicted in 1964 on charges of conspiracy to violently overthrow the government and sentenced to life in prison.

His imprisonment prompted an international outcry, and apartheid made South Africa the subject of economic sanctions and cultural boycotts in the Eighties that helped secure Mandela’s release and end apartheid.

After he left the presidency, Mandela established the Nelson Mandela Foundation to combat the spread of HIV and AIDS and advocate for rural development and the construction of schools. He became a vocal critic of the U.S. and Britain for their 2003 invasion of Iraq, and though he largely retired from the public eye in 2004, Mandela helped bring the World Cup to South Africa in 2010.

Mandela is survived by his third wife, Graça Machel, whom he married on his 80th birthday, and his ex-wife Winnie Mandela, along with three children, 16 grandchildren and numerous great-grandchildren.

http://www.rollingstone.com/politics/news/nelson-mandela-dead-at-95-20131205

Read more: http://www.rollingstone.com/politics/news/nelson-mandela-dead-at-95-20131205#ixzz2mdsxgxnB
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Rest in Peace Nelson Mandela


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The world’s greatest statesman, Nelson Mandela, died.  Rest in peace Mr President.

A mother’s hand…. Day 4 of 48


A mother’s hand brushes hair from your eyes, tears from your cheek, hurt from your heart. Lauren Benson

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We need a miracle again….


 

 

 

 

I posted this a year ago.  We never did get the miracle we needed.Image (195)

tersiaburger's avatarVic's Final Journey

Daniel and Vic 29-01-07

Sr Siza examined Vic today.  She phoned Dr Sue who will be in tomorrow morning.  She also brought a script with for Dalacin antibiotics.  The cellulitis has spread to all three the subcutaneous sites.

Siza expressed her concern at Vic’s decline…

Last Friday Danie, my husband, came and sat next to me and said “I know everyone says it will be better for Vic to die than live in this pain but I was thinking how hard it will be for us without her…”

That statement really shook me.  Up until now death has been a hypothetical issue… Doctors diagnoses and prognosis…predictions…  I have never really considered living without my child.

Last week Siza and I met with the CEO of Amcare, a large community project that provide community based feeding schemes, HIV/AIDS Counselling, Home-based care, skills development, ARV Clinic, women and children shelters.   We are hoping that they…

View original post 800 more words

Mom’s Hugs


“Mom’s hugs are like peanut butter and jelly sandwiches – they’re sweet and they stick with you a long time.”  Anonymous

Vic would hug and hold… I hug and release….

Vic once told me I am a lousy hugger.  It was said in jest, but I know that Vic loved hugging for that extra couple of seconds (or minutes).  She loved feeling loved and treasured.  

Vic taught her boys to hug.  She taught them to say “I love you”.  

Vic hugging her late father
Vic hugging her late father
Vic raised "huggers".  I am so grateful!
Vic raised “huggers”. I am so grateful!
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Vic and I always hugged and held hands.
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Vic hugging her precious son…
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A precious moment between Vic and Jon-Daniel
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We come from a family of huggers. Here my Dad and Vic are hugging.

Vic’s love was like a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.  It left a wonderful aftertaste and stuck for a long time.

Love you baby girl.

 

Motherhood – Day 2 of 48


“Motherhood: All love begins and ends there.” Robert Browning

at birth

Jared and his Mommy
Jared and his Mommy  

Vic was born to be a mommy. As a toddler she would “discuss” her babies names with me….

“What are you going to be when you grow up Sweetie?”  I would ask

“A mommy” she would reply

There were no if’s or but’s about it as far as she was concerned.  She started “designing” her wedding dress and planning her family at the age of three.  Vic had no ambitions of ever becoming a doctor, lawyer or politician…She only ever wanted to be a Mommy.  Vic had no half-measures in life.  Whatever she did she did with passion…

She loved and lived passionately.

She revelled in the joy of motherhood.  Vic was a passionate mother.  Over protective, caring, loving…

Jon-Daniel and his Mommy
Jon-Daniel and his Mommy

Motherhood took a terrible toll on her body.  Not once did she regret her decision to have the boys – despite the price she paid.

For you MOM…because I love you


Mothers Day 2011, I received a wonderful book from Vic.  The title of the book “For you MOM…because I love you”

Precious baby Vic
Precious baby Vic

I will post a quote from this book, every day, until the 18th of January 2014, when it is Vic’s one-year anniversary.

Vic and her boys.
Vic and her boys.

“The loveliest masterpiece of the heart of God, is the heart of a mother.” Saint Theresa of Lisieiux

Two mothers with their child(ren)
Two mothers with their child(ren)

Badge of honour


It is the silly season. The season of madness. It’s the time for holiday merriment with its relentlessly upbeat expectations, sometimes forced, especially for those of us grieving the loss of a loved one.

No matter where I or what I am doing, there is always one thought that is in the forefront of my mind: “My child is dead”. That thought can never be erased. It has become a part of my soul.

I sense an impatience in some people for me to “get over it”, “put it in the past”, “stop dwelling on your loss”, or “move forward”

Yes, I have moved forward, but I can never forget. There is an aching in my soul and a hole in my heart. There is always a part of me that is always aware that “my child is dead.” I will never be complete again. Nothing or no one can fill the place my child had in my life and heart!

Like a drowning person I am grabbing onto symbolic things – an angel garden, burning candles, a memorial light in a tree of remembrance, a Hospice….. These symbolic things simultaneously provides solace, searing pain and anger.

On Friday night the Tree of Remembrance was lit at the premises where our Hospice building is. I was filled with such immense sadness that I was unable to contain my tears. I know that I was not the only one moved by the lighting of the tree. I was flanked by a dear friend who lost her husband nine months ago and a colleague who lost her mother a year ago. Gentle tears ran down their cheeks. Jared, my eldest grandson who stood behind me, put his arms around me and whispered “I miss Mommy too…”


Many bereaved people will pretend this is just another holiday season. It isn’t. I refuse to pretend that it is.

This will be my first birthday, our first Christmas, Jared’s 17th birthday and New Year without Vic. My birthday I hope to ignore. Christmas Eve we will spend at Lani’s house with a lot of people we don’t know. I know there will be no room for thought. There will be a lot of food, gifts, talking, laughing…. Christmas Day I will go to a squatter camp with Reuben and the children in his church. We will provide the poor with a meal. Jared’s birthday – we will all make a huge effort to make special… New Year’s I will remember knowing last year that Vic was dying. That it was her last New Year.

Dick Lumaghi, bereavement coordinator for Hospice of Ukiah says “The depth of a grief is exactly proportional to the depth of attachment; from one perspective, a deep grief is a badge of honour, a big love between two people.”

I do wear my grief as a badge of honour. My precious child was gentle, kind, compassionate, beautiful, loyal and loving. She earned every tear I have ever shed. She earned ever tear I will ever shed. I wish people would understand that it’s total impossible for me to “get over it”, “put this in the past”, “stop dwelling on your loss”, or “move forward”.

I love my child. I miss my child. I want my child home with me.


Mommy can you feel how sore it is?


I posted this a year ago.

I still remember my precious child’s eyes.  Old, wise eyes filled with pain and fear.  I remember the unrelenting nausea and excruciating pain.  I remember my beautiful child’s desperate fight to live.

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I remember her holding my hand, her tears silently running down her cheeks… The fear in my heart that her suffering would never end.

Now I wish I could hold her one more time; wipe her precious tears away; whispering “I love you angel child”

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Hospice has just fitted a subcutaneous driver – again.   Vic’s pain has spiralled out of control over the past couple of days.

Vic was in absolute excruciating pain during the night.  She battled to breath.

“Help me Mommy!  I can’t stand the pain anymore…”

I lay next to her and put constant pressure on the area that hurt most.  It was just below her ribcage – liver.  “Oh Mommy, it is so sore.  Can you feel how sore it is?

As a little girl Vic used to believe that I could “feel” her pain…

“Feel how sore my toe is Mommy…”

As I lay there with my hand on her “sore” I wished with every fibre in my body that I could lay my hand on her sick body and soak up the pain and disease.  It cannot be so I look for a new spot on her bum to stick in a needle.

Vic seems calm now and the pain under control.  She is sleeping peacefully.  She has not vomited since this morning and managed to have a sandwich for lunch.

Please God let the subcutaneous driver work.  Please let the tissue hold up!   Please God!

I know that you are with me.  Feel my love Angel Child.  See my heart.  Know my heart.  Love you yesterday, today and forever.  Mommy

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Struggling to Understand Suicide


An amazing post on the difficult issue of suicide. A dear friend’s son committed suicide earlier this year. This has confirmed my thoughts and feelings on the matter.

lensgirl53's avatarIn the Wake of Suicide

As I have perused the internet for articles about death by suicide, I look mostly for those things that bring comfort to my soul….my spirit…so that I can pass it along to others. Hopefully, they too, will be enlightened and encouraged by those words that have brought me peace in my day to day struggles by the loss of my son to suicide. The following is a most exceptional articulation that touches on the whole…the physical reasons and the emotional reasons for death by suicide….. about a loving God who is with us and our loved ones who die by this terrible and very misunderstood disease. My wholehearted thanks go to Father Ron Rolheiser for writing and posting his article. I pass this along in memory of my sweet and sensitive son, Brandon Heath.

Struggling to Understand Suicide

by Father Ron Rolheiser

Pic - Fr Ron - no collar b-wSadly, today, there are many deaths by suicide…

View original post 869 more words

Mother and Child Reunion


It is Friday again.

There is another funeral to attend.

In an hour and a half I have to attend the funeral of my late BFF’s mom who passed away on Tuesday.  My friends mom was like a back-up mom to me.  She was a lady from the top of her dignified head to the tip of her carefully manicured toes.  A gentle soul who had also buried a daughter.  A lady who attended all my loved one’s funerals….

I got so carried away with Stepping Stone Hospice that I neglected to visit her as often as I wanted.  A couple of times I arrived at her home, and she would be out.   She spent the last 7 weeks in hospital, and when I walked into her room, all masked up, she teared up and said “Where have you been?  I have missed you so much.”

So life passes us by.  We become too busy to visit those we love… and then one day, far too soon, they are gone.

She did not fear death.  In fact I think she embraced death in the end.  I know that she is reunited with Marlene.

I wonder whether she will bump into Vic and my Dad?

I am so tired of being sad.  I am so tired of pretending that I am okay – even happy.  I truly wish that it was my funeral today.  That I was the one reunited with her daughter…

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What He Meant


What an amazing post.

Denise's avatarForever 21

I’d like to say something interesting about the mad crazy start of the holiday season a whole two-and-a-half months before Christmas, but I don’t know what that would be except for the usual grousing. There was a time I thought since the six or so weeks between Thanksgiving and when the Christmas decorations came down were mostly absorbed by Christmas, I spent 1/12th of the year (generously rounded down) in some alternate universe where life revolved around garland, gifts, tiny, twinkling lights and how many different kinds of cookies I could bake. Now the time frame’s shifted to 2 1/2 months, and I’m not feeling so generous. Over 1/6th of our time is spent absorbed in the holidays or trying to avoid them.

Whether or not I want to think about the holidays doesn’t matter. I feel them. It’d be easy to say this time of year makes…

View original post 941 more words

They say there is a reason…


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