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.
Today I read a very moving eulogy that Denise, one of my blogger friends, posted. It is a eulogy that she wrote and presented at her beloved son’s funeral.
I identified with her emotions and every word she wrote. I would like to share Denise’s words with you and also my eulogy with which I honoured my brave child.
Denise says:” I’ve added a page with Philip’s eulogy. It was my last gift to him. As I wrote in the introduction, I’m posting it so you can know him a little better. I’ve just re-read it, and I remember reading it out loud, with Phil and Natalie beside me. I remember that I’d spent the last two hours in my chair, non-stop sobbing. I remember my cousin Maria leaning over and saying, “If you don’t stop crying you won’t be able to read.” I remember my voice clear and strong. And when I was done, I remember being told, “I feel better because I know you’re going to be all right.”
Me and “all right” didn’t belong in the same sentence. But there it was. And here it is; I hope you’ll take a look.”
Much of the days, immediately after Vic’s death, is now a distant memory. The emotions that I did record are hazy now. I floated on a herbal tranquilizer cloud… I cannot remember who all was at the funeral. I remember who wasn’t… I looked at the January 2013 photos this week and saw that her second eldest sibling did come and say her goodbyes. I now vaguely remember her little girls being here, but I actually don’t remember!!
When Vic planned her memorial service she asked that I deliver her eulogy.
Friday, Saturday and Sunday after Vic died I cried and was unable to think straight. I wanted to do the handouts myself but by Sunday evening I knew I would not be able to do it in time. My mind was blank, and I could not get Microsoft Publisher to do what I needed it to do… At 8.15pm I texted the undertaker and asked them to do it. I would send them the content, and they would format my information.
I prepared a wonderful slide show of Vic’s life. All the fun bits and the people she loved were in it with her. All the highlights of her life were captured in PowerPoint. “Never Alone” as performed by Jim Brickman and Lady Annabella would play as her coffin was carried out of the church. “If tomorrow starts without me” would play before the start of the service. The slide show would loop from 15 minutes before the service and again 10 minutes after Vic left the church for the last time.
The eulogy and thank-you’s would be done by me.
Strangely the “thank-you’s” was far more difficult to do. There were so many people to thank that had loved, helped and supported Vic and the family over the years…
I actually don’t know whether I blogged on the service as such before, but if I have either forgive me or please move onto another post.
When I stood up to do the thank you’s and eulogy I thought “It is the 3rd eulogy in 18 months I am doing…”
As I stood up Vic’s boys got up and flanked me. They bravely and stoically stood next to me supporting me as we paid our last respects. I could feel their bodies tremble and occasionally I hear a stifled sound as they suppressed their tears.
The boys and I before the memorial service
We stood on the stairs below the pulpit. Three steps below us Vic lay in a casket. More than a hundred candles burning; her St Josephs lilies on the casket and a beautiful framed photo of her… I so wish someone has taken a photo…
Like Denise I was surprised by the clarity of my voice. It was as if my voice belonged to someone else. The steadiness of my voice belied the physical pain of my heart.
I said the following:
Where do I start? How do I begin a farewell when I still can’t believe you’re gone? How do I say goodbye to a part of my soul?
The day you were born I experienced this UNBELIEVABLE rush of love. I was smitten from the first second I lay eyes on you.
You came into my life and changed me forever. Over the years people have complimented me for being a good mother but I truly cannot take credit for that. You were born good, and great and amazing. You were the one who taught me lessons in life. I believe you are an angel God sent to teach me.
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.
When you were diagnosed with Osteogenesis Imperfecta at the age of 18 months and the doctors told me I should wrap you in cotton wool and wait for you to die, you taught me it was more important to feel and grow like any other child than to have me hide you under my wing. It was so important to you to live. And that you did. You gave birth to not one beautiful baby but two! You mothered the boys the way you lived life – with a passion.
You are the bravest person in the world. You rewrote medical history. You defied death for so many years… You mocked bad news and a poor prognosis…
You made me so proud. You have always been my greatest pride and joy. At school you excelled as a pianist. As a mommy you were an example to all. As a dying person you were brave beyond words.
I’m not sure how I can live this life without you. You worried about me just as much as I worried about you. You told everyone how worried you were that I would not cope without you. You fought so hard to stay alive. You fought until you gave your very last breath. You did not want to leave your boys. You lived for your boys.
You often said you were scared people would forget you…
No-one will ever forget you. You made an incredible impact on the world. You left two monuments of your love and mothering skills. Your sons will honour you every day of their lives with their actions.
The photo on the casket
Your dream of a Hospice for Alberton has been realised in Stepping Stone. Thousands of people will benefit from your dream and compassion in years to come. It is ironic that you were Stepping Stone’s first death…
Two weeks before your passing you started seeing angels. You saw Gramps, Uncle Dries, your father and Auntie Marlene. Then a week before your passing you said “My whole room is full of angels” You fought to stay alive every single day of your life. Eleven months ago you called a family meeting and told us that you had decided enough is enough. No more surgeries. No more hospitals.
Over the past 11 months you made your final wishes known. You planned your memorial service. You spoke to the boys about what was important. I personally got a long list of do’s and don’t’s.
Just before Christmas you said you were worried about me. That you could see I thought you would bounce back again…You said you were dying…You could feel the changes in your body. But like 95% of the people in this church today I honestly though you would bounce back and defy death once again!
One week before Vic died…
The day you were born you filled my entire life. You were always my first and last thought. I feel numb and as if I am in a bubble. You will be happy to know that we have been surrounded by love and support. But it still feels as if the world should have stopped because you left it.
Vic, I miss you so much already and I don’t know if I can take this pain anymore. But then I think, how can I be sad when I know you’re in a better place? How can I be sad when you brought me so much happiness? How can I be sad when God is already working miracles through you? How can I be sad when I feel like the luckiest person on earth to have been chosen to be your mother? How can I be sad when God gave you to me for 14,019 days, 20 hours and 15 minutes? I thank God every day for the time we shared together.
Baby, I promise you today we will be the support system for the boys you wanted. We love them so much. No-one in the world can ever take your place. We promise we will keep your memories alive. We will honour our promises to you.
So now we must bid you farewell. It is your time to run, free from pain and suffering. We will always love you. We will never forget you.
Every day I go to Vic’s Facebook page to see whether someone remembered her… I leave her messages… Today at 14:18 I dialled her mobile number out of habit.
Exactly three months ago I knew my child’s life had been reduced to hours…I knew that her little body could no longer fight whatever infection was raging in it. Her temperature was off the chart… the thermometer only registers temperatures up to 106 °F (41.5 °C) and then goes onto “HI”.
It was this time, three months ago, that Vic’s breathing changed. Three months ago it was Vic’s last night of breathing.
Earlier that day I fell asleep next to Vic – my hand on the pulse in her neck. I was so exhausted I could not think or function. I just needed to be with her every second of her last hours.
The boys came to say their goodbyes…
I no longer allowed visitors.
I remember lying next to her recalling a discussion we had when I had flu and was running a fever. I am a terrible patient. I am such a ninny. I remembered saying to Vic “Sweetie, when I am dying please don’t let people touch me…”
“I won’t” she promised. “My skin also hurts when I am running a fever…”
“Why didn’t you tell me? It must irritate you when I stroke your hand or hair when you are sick?”
“Because I know you need to touch and hold me when I am sick…” she said.
“I will never to it again. So next time you are running a fever know I want to hold your hand and stroke your hair…”
“It’s okay Mommy. You can hold my hand. I don’t mind. It hurts but makes me feel better…”
“That’s an oxymoron if I have ever heard one in my life!” I laughed and Vic joined in
That night, three months ago, there was no idle chatter or laughter in the house. Just the sound of Vic’s breathing.
Tonight, three months later, everyone has gone to bed. There is no sound of laughter or idle chatter in the house. Earlier tonight there was.
I keep imaging that I am hearing Vic’s footsteps shuffling down the passage. The boys have lit extra candles for their mom. I know that they are sad.
I am aware that the dynamics of my grief is changing. I am starting to function, smile and look “alive”. The numbness has gone. The pain is real now. My sadness is constant. I go to sleep with tears in my eyes and wake up with tears running into my hair. My grief has become “mine”. It has become a constant companion. I do not want to share it. I want to embrace it.
I know there is so much to be grateful for, I know I wanted Vic’s suffering to end, I am grateful that she is no longer fracturing vertebrae from vomiting, crying with pain… I KNOW all of this on an intellectual level. I try to tell my heart to be happy or at least grateful, but my heart won’t listen!
I don’t want to sleep tonight. I want to lie awake and remember my beautiful baby girl, her warm smile, her tiny little hands and her pure soul. If I fall asleep I pray that I will dream of my baby girl…
This amazing hopeful post was written by Missmorgansmom…A grieving Mother who lost her daughter 5 days shy of 17 months ago to a drunken driver… When I first read her blog my heart stopped for a couple of seconds. I knew that the grief that she was living would be mine soon.
I recall thinking that it would be somewhat easier when Vic dies. Missmorgansmom’s lost her precious daughter not through debilitating illness but through a drunken driver. I knew that she had so much reason to bitter. Her child’s life had not even started and I was praying for my child’s suffering to end…
When the raw despair and grief overwhelmed me after Vic’s death I thought “My grief and anger is as intense as Missmorgansmom’s… When the tears overwhelmed me I remembered this cyberfriend of mine… It scared me that she remained in this cocoon of grief. I recognize the journey of grief as I am embarking on it…I read it before…
Today was my first session with the psychiatrist at Hospice… I came out of it a wreck. I cried and teared up the whole day filled with despair that I would never heal.
Then I received my email notification of Missmorgansmom’s “Perfectly Imperfect” post. The title intrigued me because of the “IMPERFECT” part of it.
The reference to finding “a place where I belong” hit home. My blog is where I feel safe and understood. I am not judged nor am I told to move on…I am encouraged, understood, loved here…
I belong to a horrible club of Bereaved Parents.
This post filled me with hope. If Missmorgansmom can laugh more and cry a little less than I know one day I will too…
Thank you dear cyberfriend for giving me hope.
Grief is instrumental to the metamorphous of person, as a whole. So many things change in your life when you lose some one you love. Although no loss is an easy one, as personally I have lost my father, stepmother and grandparents. Sadly as heart wrenching as their deaths were there is no comparison to how my life has changed with the loss of Morgan. There is no possible way to describe what this life altering event does to you, or prepare you for the process it takes to find a new normal, especially when the process is as individual as the experience it self. This is why i continue to share this undertaking, for understanding on every level. For myself to reflect on, for those who are in a similar predicament, as well as people who simply wish to understand more.
In my journey over the last 17 months or 5 days shy of 17 months I have found that the one place i feel somewhat normal is when i am with others like me. This could be in a virtual support group, or a friendship, or honestly a stranger with a similar story. It is so hard to feel like an oddity or only feel “Normal” whatever that is, when you are among other s that belong to this club which no body wants to be a member of. You only feel a like you are not abnormal because others for similar reasons now live with broken hope of what their dreams once were, because their world was as well obliterated. I suppose to feel comfort and normalcy when you are with those who are just as fragmented is conventional in many facets. Its just so hypocritical, you do not wish anyone else to ever live in the hell you are in, you do not want anyone to have felt this pain,but yet you gravitate to those that do because they get it.
I can say that I am learning to process the fact that nothing will every be the same, it will always hurt, it will never completely heal. I am finding that i have been able to laugh a little more than months ago, I cry a little less and slowly am learning to move back into trying to be functionally productive. This is not saying I am any better than I was during the early months, it is just saying that I am adjusting to function with the pain. I still feel like I am in quick sand and still seems like a lot of the time the fight to get out is not worth the emotional and physical exhaustion. On those days, I generally drop back five and punt, maybe just try to stay under the covers until i feel strong enough to fight a bit more, whatever it takes.
I do grasp a lot more now, the proverbial light bulb has gone off, i am always going to be broken! I will never be whole, kind of like a puzzle missing a piece or I suppose like a tea cup that the handle breaks off and is glued back together, its weaker and never the same, but can function. So at this point in this wicked game this is where i am and quite honestly it is what it is! I have learned that at any given day in the process of grief, the battles you fight change from moment to moment. In the beginning i guess you are going through the traditional stages if you will. As time goes on and you graduate into new challenges, you find that the things that hurt now are things you could not have fathomed when it first happened. When you bury your child the pain and shock are so intense that no one could have possibly prepare you for! So as time goes you learn to progress through those stages, and you may find that in some ways you come to terms with the fact that your baby is gone and not coming back. Than you at some point you start to climb out of the rabbit hole to see that the world and life as you knew it, now has a completely contrasting view with incompatible meaning. You now identify with different goals, hopes and dreams, because the ones you had before are now a mirage. The depth of these goals , hopes, and dreams, may be as little as getting out of bed and making your bed one day or as extreme changing a career. The metamorphous of grief reprograms you to keep the focus of the obtainable idea that you are only in need do the best that you can at a single moment, nothing more nothing less as well as embrace the idea of your new normal to be as being perfectly imperfect!
Wednesday I found another white feather floating in the sea…
Thursday we went to a famous wine farm, Spier. Spier has bird and cheetah sanctuaries. We wandered around and decided against the rather sophisticated meals served. We decided to find a coffee shop or boutique restaurant – something quainter than the rather commercial option available.
We were fascinated by a beautiful falcon and even more magnificent looking owls. Spier is a wonderful place to visit.
Tame falcon flying around at Spier
We left and decided to be adventurous and ignore the GPS. We drove in an unknown direction on the lookout for something quaint. We drove for two kilometres when we found an interesting sign…Aspidistra Nursery and Tea Garden.
We decided it sounded quaint enough.
It was the most amazing Tea Garden. I expected fairies to jump out from the beautiful flowers. Chimes merrily tinkled and chimed in the gentle breeze…
Fairy GardenA bit of Heaven
We had a delightful meal. It was so peaceful we just sat and chatted. WE spoke about how much Vic would have enjoyed the garden and how much we miss her. We exchanged funny stories about Vic and decided to have desert. I ordered the scones (Vic and my favourite). The presentation of the scones was amazing!
My scones!
“Mom would have loved this!” I said
A white feather floated down onto the table…
“You got your white feather Oumie!” Jared said.
I must be honest that when I started looking there were white feathers everywhere. There were white pigeons sitting in the trees.
After our leisurely lunch we walked through the nursery part of Aspidistra and my wildest expectations were surpassed! It was beautiful. Plants and flowers were displayed in beautiful handcrafted containers; ribbons were swaying in the breeze.
Then I saw it! The perfect angel for Vic’s garden of remembrance!
It is a handmade, one of a kind, angel – just like my angel child. Perfect – just like Vic!
Vic’s angel…
The angel is being couriered to our home next week.
I desperately miss my little girl. I don’t want to be planning her Garden of Remembrance – I want to be planning our trip to Italy. I want to be having a cup of coffee with my child not putting an almost empty bottle of coffee in a memory box.
I walked back into our home after a wonderful 12 day vacation in Cape Town and the grief overwhelmed me again. The emptiness of the house truly got to me again today…
Will I ever feel happy again? As I am typing I can hardly see the screen of my laptop. I cannot stop the tears.
I cannot believe I ever thought it would be better for Vic to die… I cannot believe I have to face the rest of my life with this empty hole in my heart. I cannot bear the sorrow. I want to hold my little girl and hear her say “I love you Mommy”.
I want to see her smile when I say “I love you with all my heart Angel”
He said “I was in my early forties
With a lot of life before me
And a moment came that stopped me on a dime
I spent most of the next days
Looking at the x-rays Talkin’ ’bout the options
And talkin’ ’bout sweet time”
I asked him
“When it sank in
That this might really be the real end
How’s it hit you
When you get that kind of news?
Man, what’d you do?”
He said
“I went skydiving
I went Rocky Mountain climbing
I went 2.7 seconds on a bull named Fu Man Chu
And I loved deeper
And I spoke sweeter
And I gave forgiveness I’d been denying”
And he said
“Someday I hope you get the chance
To live like you were dying”
He said
“I was finally the husband
That most of the time I wasn’t
And I became a friend a friend would like to have
And all of a sudden going fishin’
Wasn’t such an imposition
And I went three times that year I lost my dad
I finally read the Good Book, and I
Took a good, long, hard look
At what I’d do if I could do it all again
It dawned on me that we have been luckier than most. We have lived as if Vic was dying all our lives. We lived every second. Vic lived every second. Only the last week of her life she went into dying mode. Only once she was sedated did she succumb to dying. The rest of her life she lived; we lived her life. Every single birthday we celebrated Vic’s life.
We have a family tradition, (which the kids hate), of having eulogy speeches on everyone’s birthday. So on our birthdays we would go around the table and everyone gets to say something nice of the birthday boy/girl… We call it our “Living Eulogy”… So often we only speak well of the dead. We treat the living with contempt and disregard; we do not acknowledge their achievements and goodness…We are so focussed on success. Success by our own terms!
I am grateful for our family tradition and I will not allow it to die off… I am grateful Vic knew how much we revered her….
Vic did not have a career or a degree, fame or fortune. Yet she has touched thousands of people’s lives worldwide and will continue to do so through Stepping Stone Hospice. I am grateful that she heard how much we loved and respected her. The most common words were “You are the bravest person I know…”
Vic was an amazing mother. She loved and nurtured her boys. I wonder whether they ever witnessed her tears of pain when she cooked for them or made their lunch for school…. I did.
We will continue to honour Vic’s life through our actions and words.
When tomorrow starts without me, and I’m not there to see.
If the sun should rise and find your eyes, all filled with tears for me.
I wish so much you wouldn’t cry, the way you did today,
While thinking of the many things we never got to say.
I know how much you love me, as much as I love you..
And each time that you think of me, I know you’ll miss me too..
But when tomorrow starts without me, Please try to understand..
An angel came and called my name and took me by the hand,
It seemed my place was ready – In Heaven far above,
and that I’d have to leave behind, those things I dearly love..
But as I turned to walk away, a tear fell from my eye.
For all of life, I’d always thought, I didn’t want to die.
I had so much to live for, so much yet to do,
It seemed almost impossible, that I was leaving you..
I thought of all the yesterdays, the good ones and the bad..
I thought of all the love we shared, and how much fun we had..
If I could relive yesterday, just even for a while,
I’d say goodbye, then kiss you ‘til I saw that special smile..
But then I fully realized, that it could never be,
‘Cause emptiness and memories, would take the place of me.
And when I thought of all those things, I might miss come tomorrow,
I thought of you, and when I did, my heart was filled with sorrow. .
But when I walked through Heaven’s gates, I felt so much at home.
When God looked down and smiled at me, From His great & golden throne,
He said, “This is eternity, and all I’ve promised you.
Today your life on Earth is past, but here it starts anew.
I promise no tomorrow, but today will always last,
and since each day is the same day, there’s no longing for the past. .
But you have been so faithful, so trusting and so true,
Though there were some times you did some things you shouldn’t do. .
But you have been forgiven, and now at last you’re free,
So come and take me by the hand, and share my life with me..”
So when tomorrow starts without me, don’t think we’re far apart,
for every time you think of me, I’ll be right there – in your Heart..
Vic's Final Journey 