Pendulum of grief – 7 years


It has been 2555 days since my beautiful child succumbed to her horrific illness. It has been 6 years, 11 months, 30 days. I have been swinging on a pendulum of grief and recovery for the past 84 months. It has been an ongoing battle to balance the pain and guilt of outliving my child with the desire to honour her final wish.

Dr Colin Murray Parker said “Grief is the price we pay for love”

How true!

My love for my child will never die. I will never forget my child.

As I live in the past I continuously remember (some long-forgotten) things. I remember her baby softness, her toddler cuteness, her primary school years when she developed a sense of humour, her defiant teenage years. I remember Vic falling in love with Colin, getting married and falling pregnant 6 weeks later. I remember the gentle, beautiful mommy she was to her boys. I remember her fierce love for her boys. I remember her descent into ill health. I remember her last days. I remember her last breath.

I feel compelled to say the following to those of you blessed with healthy and living children. As you love your living children I love my child. Unconditionally and every second of the day. I too want to talk about my child… Just as you do. When you talk about your child and his or her achievements I don’t squirm in my chair. When I talking about my child you try and change the subject. I have heard a friend say “I have heard the story before “and walk away from the group. If I repeat a story it’s because I don’t have new memories. I only have old memories to hold on and repeat. Your discomfort doesn’t make my child matter less.

Vic’s life was cut short.

Not my love for her.

I will grieve for a lifetime. I will never “get over it”. My love for Vicky will last for the rest of my life. Every milestone in my grandsons lives remind me of our loss. Milestone birthdays, Jared’s wedding and now Kirsten’s pregnancy. Jon-Daniel graduating at the end of the year… Yet I have experienced joy. I have hugged and wiped tears from the eyes of other bereaved parents. I have been filled with pride for my precious child’s brave and selfless journey through life and death. I look at the boys and am filled with pride for the young men they are. I remember with pride what a wonderful mommy Vicky was. I am filled with sadness that Vic will never have the privilege of holding her first grandson.

Tonight, as the pendulum swings back I once again descend into this intense state of grief. Tomorrow morning at 10:35 it will be 7 years since Vic stopped breathing.

Today I allowed myself silence and unchecked tears. Next week I will continue to honour my child’s life by fulfilling her final wish. Rest in peace my precious, beautiful child. You will forever be in my heart. I will never forget.

Mommy’s dream is coming true…


Jon-Daniel’s BBM status today was “Mommy’s dream coming true” with this photo…

Jon-Daniel

Your dream is coming true my angel child. Your Stepping Stone Hospice is functioning, and we have received a building as a donation!  Next week construction will start and by the end of the month we will move in! 

Behind the building there is a duck pond and a quaint little chapel.  I look forward to planting some roses in the garden!  We anticipate wheeling our day-care patients into the garden so they can feed the ducks.

Of course we do not have furniture yet.  The boys are donating the furniture for the two Dignity Rooms (dying rooms).  It was their decision!  We want to real make the rooms pretty and lively… We will play gentle music and burn candles like we did for you… It will truly be rooms of love…

Yesterday I was at the site and I was looking at the terrain that they were clearing.  All of a sudden there was this perfect white feather…Another message from you Angel.  Thank you.  I needed a sign…

Stepping Stone Hospice is daunting.  This week an article appeared in the Tames Times.  It opened a floodgate of telephone calls…  An elderly man called.  His voice was raw with grief and despair.  His wife is dying from liver cancer and he is going through all those familiar caregiver anguish.  How will he know when it is time?  But she is still working and in total denial…He did not want help and will put my number on speed dial… I experienced what Arlene must have experienced when I phoned her the first time….  Quite a few new patients this week…so much pain and fear…

We have had wonderful offers of help.  A woman phoned today and said that she did not know how to care for a sick person, but she was prepared to go clean a sick person’s home… We have had offers of help from professional councillors, people from all wards of life…Now we can only hope and pray that people will volunteer furniture and make some financial contributions! 

I am amazed at the goodness and generosity of people.  The company that donated the building belongs to a young man, Jaco Schultz.  You would have liked him my angel.  He is really a nice young man with a “white heart”.

 I can hear you asking “Where did you find him Mommy?” 

I did not find him.  He found us!  Long story…here is the short version!

We sell second-hand clothing to raise funds…  El-Marie, Jaco’s sister took 14 bags of clothing to Trix.  Trix (a wonderful woman with a superb sense of humour and a passion for Stepping Stone Hospice) told her what we do with the proceeds of the clothes (we buy medication for the indigent patients).  Two weeks later she dropped off more bags and asked whether we could meet her brother… 

The meeting itself was quite funny.  It was when I had that terrible flu.  The morning of the meeting I hardly had a voice, my head was throbbing and I was certain I would die.  Remember the woman you met, who lives around the corner from us and whose daughter-in-law was paralysed in an accident in December 2012?  She was at the meeting.  I was so scared I would spread my flu germs, and she would contract my flu, that I wore a facemask – I did not want DiL’s death on my conscience.  It must have looked so funny!  Me with this horrible surgical facemask… gasping for oxygen and only breathing in concentrated germs! 

Jaco asked to see the terrain, and we went on a walk-about.  He asked whether a tree could be moved….We had a promise of a building that would have a small day-care centre, two dignity rooms, a treatment room…! As easy as that!

plansWithin weeks the promise is becoming a reality.  Construction starts next week!  I am so excited!  So my Angel Girl, there was a purpose to your suffering after all. I wish it was different but it isn’t. We have been blessed beyond comprehension. 

I believe that God is personally overseeing this project. 

Love and miss you with all my heart Sweetie.

https://tersiaburger.com/2012/11/08/being-prepared-to-die-is-one-of-the-greatest-secrets-of-living-george-lincoln-rockwell/

https://tersiaburger.com/2012/11/16/we-both-laughed-and-the-moment-was-over/

https://tersiaburger.com/2012/12/02/where-to-now/

https://tersiaburger.com/2013/02/13/the-process-of-preparing-for-death/

https://tersiaburger.com/2012/10/15/remission-15-10-2012/

https://tersiaburger.com/2012/10/01/sometimes-the-pains-too-strong-to-bare-and-life-gets-so-hard-you-just-dont-care/

https://tersiaburger.com/2013/05/27/hospice-patients-live-longer/

https://tersiaburger.com/2013/04/24/stepping-stone-hospice/

https://tersiaburger.com/2013/01/03/tomorrow-may-be-better-than-yesterday/

 

 

Compassionate friends say…


Sixteen years ago today, my beloved mother lost her battle against the septicaemia ravaging her tiny little body.  I woke up this morning thinking “well at least this year Mom has Dad and Vic with her…”

Christmas many years ago...
Christmas many years ago…
Vic and her Gramps and Moekie
Vic and her Gramps and Moekie

It was very hard for me to come to terms with my Mom’s death.  I spoke to her every day of my life regardless of where I was in the world.  I was a real “Mommy’s Girl”.  Mom adored Vic.  They were so close.

I was cruising (I know “surfing” is the correct terminology) the web looking at bereavement sites when I saw that on the 9th of December 2012  it was  Compassionate Friends 16th Worldwide Candle Lighting.  The 9th of December is my birthday.  It was a special birthday – my last with my precious child.  Worldwide bereaved parents were lighting candles for their dead children…This year I shall join them in sorrow – lighting up the world.…

I found a section “To the Newly Bereaved”.  It is now 4 months and seventeen days or 137 days since Vic died.  Am I still a newly bereaved parent or am I becoming a seasoned bereaved parent?

When your child has died, suddenly it seems like all meaning has been drained from your life. When you wake in the morning, it’s difficult to get out of bed, much less live a “normal” life. All that was right with the world now seems wrong and you’re wondering when, or if, you’ll ever feel better.

We’ve been there ourselves and understand some of the pain you are feeling right now. We are truly glad that you have found us but profoundly saddened by the reason. We know that you are trying to find your way in a bewildering experience for which no one can truly be prepared.

When you’re newly bereaved, suddenly you find yourself on an emotional roller-coaster where you have no idea what to expect next. Here are thoughts on some of what you may be experiencing or feeling (many of these will apply to bereaved siblings and grandparents):

Psychological

  • You’re in shock from what has happened and a numbness surrounds you to help shield you from the pain.   I thought I was going to lose my mind when Vic died.  The pain was unbearable.  Now numbness has settled in.  It is a survival mechanism.
  • You find yourself in denial. Your child cannot be dead. You expect to see your child walk through the door any moment.  No – I have passed this stage.  Vic is dead.  She will never shuffle down the passage again.
  • You see your child in the faces of others walking down the street.  No – Vic was uniquely beautiful.  I wish I could see her face on a walking body because that may erase some horrible memories from my mind.
  • You wonder how someone can feel this much pain and survive.  Absolutely!
  • Thoughts of suicide briefly enter your mind. You tell yourself you want to die—and yet you want to live to take care of your family and honor your child’s memory.  Absolutely!
  • You want to know how the people around you can go about their day as if nothing has happened—don’t they understand that your life—everything that meant anything to you—has just ended? Your purpose in life is gone.  Absolutely
  • You are no longer afraid of death as each day that passes puts you one day closer to being with your child.  Absolutely yes!!!!
  • Thoughts of “what ifs” enter your mind as you play out scenarios that you believe would have saved your child.  Yes
  • Your memory has suddenly become clouded. You’re shrouded in forgetfulness. You’ll be driving down the road and not know where you are or remember where you’re going. As you walk, you may find yourself involved in “little accidents” because you’re in a haze.  Absolutely
  • You fear that you are going crazy.  I fear I am…
  • You find there’s a videotape that constantly plays in an endless loop in your mind, running through what happened.  I try very hard not to think about it
  • You find your belief system is shaken and you try to sort out what this means to your faith.  Yes
  • Placing impossible deadlines on yourself, you go back to work, but find that your mind wanders and it’s difficult to function efficiently or, some days, at all. Others wonder when you’ll be over “it,” not understanding that you’ll never be the same person you were before your child died—and the passage of time will not make you so.  Absolutely correct!
  • You find yourself reading the same paragraph over and over again trying to understand what someone else has written.  Yes – it is scary.  I watch TV programs and cannot remember the show afterwards.

Emotional

  • You rail against the injustice of not being allowed the choice to die instead of your child.  ABSOLUTELY CORRECT!!!!
  • You find yourself filled with anger, whether it be at your partner, a person you believe is responsible for your child’s death, God, yourself, and even your child for dying.   ABSOLUTELY CORRECT!!!!
  • You yearn to have five minutes, an hour, a day back with your child so you can tell your child of your love or thoughts left unsaid.  No, I have no unspoken words or emotions.  I just want her back with me!
  • Guilt becomes a powerful companion as you blame yourself for the death of your child. Rationally you know that you were not to blame—you most certainly would have saved your child if you’d been given the chance.  Thank God this phase has passed.
  • You feel great sadness and depression as you wrestle with the idea that everything important to you has been taken from you. Your future has been ruined and nothing can ever make it right.  My life will never be the same again.  I wonder whether I will ever experience true happiness again.

Physical

  • Either you can’t sleep at all or you sleep all the time. You feel physical exhaustion even when you have slept.  Have these people moved into my home?  This is absolutely true.
  • You no longer care about your health and taking care of yourself—it just doesn’t seem that important anymore.  Maybe….
  • You’re feeling anxiety and great discomfort—you’re told they’re panic attacks.  No
  • The tears come when you least expect them.  Absolutely
  • Your appetite is either gone or you find yourself overeating.  Oh yes! 

Family & Social

  • If you have surviving children, you find yourself suddenly overprotective, not wanting to allow them out of your sight. Yet you feel like a bad parent because it’s so difficult to focus on their needs when you’re hurting so bad yourself.  I am petrified of not being with the boys all the time.  I hate not being with them!  I am stressed when they are with their father or friends.  I am terrified of leaving them to go overseas…
  • You find that your remaining family at home grieves the loss differently and you search for a common ground which seems difficult to find.  Yes
  • You’ve been told by well-meaning people, even professionals, that 70-80-90 percent of all couples divorce after their child dies. You are relieved to find that new studies show a much lower divorce rate, from 12-16%, believed to be caused by the “shared experience” aspect of the situation.  We have gone through a very rough time in our marriage.  We have worked through it.  But I can see that it is a distinct possibility in a newly bereaved situation.
  • Old friends seem to fade away as you learn they cannot comprehend the extent or length of your grief. No…they faded away when Vic was ill and she did not die soon enough
  • Things you liked to do which seemed so important before now seem meaningless.  Absolutely correct
  • Others say you’ll someday find “closure,” not understanding that closure never applies when it is the death of your child.  Darn right! 
  • Fleeting thoughts of pleasurable activities bring about feelings of guilt. If you child can’t have fun, how can you do anything that brings you enjoyment?  Maybe
  • New friends come into your life who understand some of your grief because they’ve been there themselves.  Absolutely!  I have also opened up and made myself “accessible”.  Before, Vic consumed my life.   http://www.compassionatefriends.org/Find_Support/Personal-Note/To_the_Newly_Bereaved.aspx

Tomorrow I will share  “Finding the ‘new me’…”

https://tersiaburger.com/2012/12/10/another-birthday/

http://www.compassionatefriends.org