Two years today


Our last coffee shop outing...
Our last coffee shop outing…

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My precious Angel Child

Two years ago I lay next to you listening to your laboured breathing. You lay motionless in your bed. Your hands and feet were ice-cold. Your body was burning up with fever. Daddy and I counting the seconds between your breaths. My hand on your little heart and my head next to yours.

I remember whispering how much I love you; that there was nothing to be scared of…I felt your heart beat getting weaker and weaker; your breathing becoming more shallow by the minute.
When your little heart stopped beating my heart broke into a million pieces. As your soul soared mine plummeted into a hell hole of grief and despair.

I knew that it would be hard but nothing in the world could have prepared me for the pain that followed. My heart aches for you and I would give anything to hold you one more time. To hear that mischievous giggle…

We miss you so much. Our family will never be the same again.

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The Locket


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© Kathy J Parenteau

I have a special locket that rest above my heart,
it holds your beautiful pictures while we must be apart.
It’s my hope that you’re still with me no matter come what may,
so I know that I can talk to you every single day.
When I walk into a storm you’re watching over there,
guiding me to sunny skies with tender loving care.
I’ll never have to be alone you’re always next to me,
you show me love in different ways the eyes could never see.
Your spirit fills my soul with love beyond any explanation,
with pride I’ll wear it every day in total admiration.
Of the woman who changed my life and patiently awaits,
arms wide open to welcome me when I reach heavens gates.
It’s never really good bye if in your heart you do believe,
a mothers love is endless, and never ever leaves.

Source: The Locket, Mourning Poem http://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/the-locket#ixzz2l0SJf7xl
#FamilyFriendPoems

 

 

The Vicky Bruce Dignity Room


I am sitting in the Vicky Bruce dignity room. The boys bought some wall decorations that they put up earlier this week. It is not perfectly positioned on the wall, but it was part of their healing process. I think it is beautiful.

Everybody has left, and I am alone here. The energy of the “living” have left the building. It is quiet and peaceful, and I can feel Vic’s presence.

Today I read a sad blog. It is a mother’s anguished cry about her grief for her 29-year-old daughter who died 33 weeks ago. Thirty three weeks says it all. She is still counting the days; the weeks dreading the heartache that she knows still lies ahead. http://forjuliaruth.com/2013/11/10/what-about-grief/

Compared to Dru I am a veteran at the grieving thing. Vic died 43 weeks ago. Ten weeks do not sound like a lot, but it is a lifetime in the life of a grieving mother. Dru’s pain is raw. So is mine I suppose. I think it has become such a part of my life that I cannot remember what it felt like to be happy and carefree.

I also read a heart wrenching blog written by a grieving father. http://kerrichronicles.com/2013/11/12/the-miracle-of-his-short-presence/ John wrote the following “I ran into the room and Anita was holding Noah, lifeless, with no tubes or machines hooked to him. I cried out “No No No” as I rushed over to him and held onto him with all my life. We both cried for an eternity. I ran my hands through his hair and begged God for this not to be happening. ”

These words catapulted me back to the 18th of January 2013 when I clung to the lifeless body of my precious child. I still feel the heat of her fevered body against mine. I remember how beautiful her hair looked. I remember holding her and kissing her head.

Will the pain ever subside?

I don’t think so. Well-meaning friends and acquaintances tell me it will. But quite honestly they have never lost a child.

Tomorrow it will be 302 days since I held my child. 302 days of raw longing. 302 days without my beautiful Vic. 365 days ago I realised that Vic had started dying. Vic’s nausea was relentless. Her little body started shutting down. Her organs had started failing. Vic knew that day that she was dying. https://tersiaburger.com/2012/11/14/a-night-out-of-hell/. The Doctor put up an intravenous line to try to stop the nausea. Vic was fracturing vertebrae from vomiting….

My poor precious baby girl. Why did you have to suffer the way you did?

Would I turn back the clock? To have another five minutes with her I would. For one last hug, one last “I love you”, one last “You will always be in my heart” and one last “You made my life worth living…”

I love you baby girl.

To God


“To God, I hope you look after Auntie Vicky. She is very sick. Love Chloe Alexa Burger” My precious 5 year old UK granddaughter wrote this…her mommy found it in her school satchel last week.

To God

Dear God, hear the words of a five-year old.

Happy birthday angel boy


Today Vic’s youngest son turned 15. It is his first birthday without his Mommy. As a family we have dreaded it.

Vic was a birthday person. Banners all over the house, balloons, singing, speeches and lots of laughter. Vic loved parties especially when they were her sons’ birthday parties.

We cannot do what she did. It would not be right to do what she did. We need to create new traditions around birthdays.

It is a day filled with pride and heartbreak. I know many people will think and say that Vic is smiling down from Heaven on her baby boy today. I know she is weeping. Vic never wanted to die. She so desperately wanted to live. She wanted to be at her sons’ birthdays, tell them how proud she is of them…Vic wanted to mother her boys herself…

The day has come and gone. We all hid our feelings so well. We laughed, smiled and sang….

Tonight when I get into bed I will weep with my child for my grandson…

10th birthday
10th birthday
Pregnant with Jon-Daniel
Pregnant with Jon-Daniel

Jon-Daniel 13th birthday
Jon-Daniel 13th birthday
Vic wrapping Jon-Daniel's gift
Vic wrapping Jon-Daniel’s gift
Jared smearing cream all over the birthday boy's face...
Jared smearing cream all over the birthday boy’s face…

8 months


243 days without my child.  8 months of mourning, weeping, sadness…  

Of course I appear to be “carrying on with my life”.  Why not?  The world demands it of me.  When I cry I confuse the world.  It has already been 8 months…I should be over my child death.

“Life goes on”…

Does it?  No!! Existing, breathing goes on… We live with this dreadful void in our lives.

Just think of it.  When you miss your child you pick up a phone, you Skype, get onto an aircraft or into a car and go visit.  You can hug and hold your child.  I have a box of crushed ashes.

So until you have walked in my moccasins – please don’t expect of me to “get on with it.”  I am doing the best I can.  Live your life, I will grieve the loss of mine.

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I miss you so much my Angel Child.  I missed you yesterday, I am missing you today, I WILL miss you tomorrow and every living second of my life.

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Al my love, yesterday, today, tomorrow – forever.

Mommy