death of a child – Page 4 – Vic's Final Journey

Tony’s poem

This poem was written by Tony Doiron. I assume from the words that Tony lost a child too… This poem really got to me. My child was just older and could walk, talk and count… Thank you for your beautiful words Tony.

You were lying in my arms,
As I tried to say goodbye,
“It is for the best”, they said,
And I knew that was true.

I gazed at your little hands,
Given to us that day,
You wouldn’t feel pain again,
But I wanted you to stay.

You fought for every breath you took,
Never letting go,
Until one day God made you His,
Leaving all of us below.

Although you couldn’t walk or talk,
Or even count to ten,
Your short life had more impact,
Than a hundred million men.

-Daddy
(written by Tony Doiron)

21 days

It is exactly 21 long, miserable days, to the second, since my precious child stopped breathing.

it is 14 days today

It is exactly 14 days, to the second, that my precious child died.

I miss you Angle Child!

Today I attended my first serious business meeting in almost three months. I have really neglected my business. Fortunately there was the Christmas recess, so it was not too bad. The series of very important meetings scheduled for the week of the 13^th of January was pushed back to the first week in February once I realized that Vic was dying.

I dreaded seeing my (all male) colleagues today. I have known some of them for 25 years and they all knew of Vic’s precarious health.

I sat in my car outside the building and took deep breaths. These guys have never known me to show emotion. I have been stoic throughout Vic’s illness, many operations and setbacks. I was petrified that I would not be able to contain my grief!

Lots of hugs and pats on the back dispersed with the sympathies…a hushed silence followed me into the boardroom. With a couple of minutes to spare before the start of the meeting the guys decided to go smoke.

“It must be a relief for you to not have the responsibility of a sick child any more…” the one said through a cloud of smoke…..

“Yes” said another. “It has been many years”….

I did not have to dignify the insensitive remarks with a response as one of the female directors came out and hugged me. “I have no words for you” she said.

We went into the board room and took our seats. Being our first meeting of the year the normal New Year pleasantries was exchanged. I coped beautifully.

The meeting began and as soon as I started speaking I could hear a quiver in my voice! I was mortified! I shut up as quickly as possible and spent a couple of minutes trying to compose myself without drawing any attention to myself. Breathe in through my abdomen …exhale! Breathe in – exhale… My hands were shaking so I clutched my pen tightly! I put my hands on the boardroom table to steady them.

For years I have NEVER switched off my cell phone in case Vic needed me. If I was away from home (or even when I was home) I would fall asleep in with my phone in my hand. 24/7 my phone was on.

In a way it was liberating switching my phone off when the meeting started.

When I got home this afternoon I sat reading through my old BBM messages from Vic.

“Vomiting again”

“Can I phone you Mommy?”

“Mommy may I have morphine? I am so sore!”

“Still vomiting”

“When will you be home Mommy?”

Tonight the boys went to their dad for dinner. Danie and I popped in at a friend whose daughter-in-law was paralysed in a motorbike accident on the 8^th of December. Her three beautiful granddaughters seem a little bewildered. Their mommy is in rehab and their daddy is staying with her 24/7. My friend became a substitute mommy for the girls. I have become a substitute mom to the boys again.

It was strange going to dinner – just the two of us.

Last night I covered schoolbooks… tomorrow morning I will take Jon-Daniel to the orthodontist to have his braces removed. Vic desperately wanted to live for the “event”. I hope she will be there in spirit. Tomorrow afternoon Jared and I will go and make an appointment for our motorbike learner licenses!

I am battling to contain my grief. I am trying to find the time to research “teenage grief”. How do we know how to treat grieving teenage boys? What if we make mistakes? What if we fail Vic and her boys? I fear I am not spending enough time with the boys.

Life is a mess.

I miss you angel child!

OCVCC – Day three

It is day 3 of OCVCC (Operation Clean-out Vic’s Clothing Cupboards.) Today was unbearable.

Day one I packed up Vic’s clothing I did not like. That is the sexy stuff that showed far too much cleavage. I was forever saying “Vic – Your boobs are showing! Cover yourself!” or “Boob alert – the boys can see….” I know I was stupid but in my mind’s eye I always saw that little girl who needed to be protected from the world and it was difficult to see the adult, sensual young woman…

Day 2 was the “Fat clothes” day. There was not too much of that although Vic was overweight from time to time. The Addison’s cortisone treatment played absolute havoc with her weight.

Day 3 – today, was unbearable. It was the clothes that she liked and wore that had to be packed. As I was folding her little T-Shirts my tears dripped on the cotton. I held her favourite clothing items against my face and tried to smell her on them. I could see exactly how each item fitted her disease ravaged little body. I could hear her say “Don’t I look fat?”

I cried when I packed four drawers of pyjamas. There were dress-like nightgowns for after abdominal operations when nothing could touch her abdomen; three-quarter pants with T-shirts for good days; long pants with T-shirts for when she was cold and of course the stuff she never wore…the sexy stuff. I picked up the silky stuff and I knew that they were worn seldom if ever. We should be able to sell these quite easily in our second-hand Hospice shop…

The boys made up their memory boxes on Monday night. I started with wonderful intentions…I too would have a small memory box. I already have two large cardboard boxes plus my memory box filled with precious memories.

As I wept into Vic’s clothes I decided that there is no rush. I do not have to give the clothes to Hospice immediately. I will keep it all in storage until I am ready to part with it.

Never again will I see my precious Vic wearing any of it.

Every handbag I picked up had been cleaned out properly with the exception of a tube of lipstick. Every single handbag had lipstick in it!

Jon-Daniel has started moving into Vic’s room. It is the 2^nd largest bedroom in the house with the nicest bathroom. Yesterday we moved two single beds in and put Vic’s bedroom furniture in storage. Tomorrow we will move the lounge suite into storage. The dining room suite has been sold and delivered today.

All Vic’s earthly possessions have been moved as if she has never existed.

The lounge will become a games room with a pool and table tennis tables. The dining room we will convert into a dedicated study and computer games room. We will furnish the rooms with contemporary furniture.

In my heart I know Vic would approve the changes. She would HATE the fact that her furniture is in storage. I feel like a grave digging weasel but I am complying with her final wishes.

My Vic was a little squirrel! She accumulated STUFF. Vic was a compulsive shopper. In December, knowing that she was in the final stretch of her journey, Vic bought new clothes… Some of it she never got to wear. But it brought her joy buying it.

This weekend I will tackle the other cupboards. The cupboards that contain all tax and warranty related documents going back to 2001…. All neatly filed in plastic sleeves… I will keep the boys school files that she so lovingly kept up to date. Every drawing, school report, newsletter filed per boy by year… When they leave home one day and have kids of their own (that they will moan at for not studying….) I will hand my great-grandchildren their dad’s reports.

There are tons of papers to dispose of! There are boxes of educational toys and games from when the boys were toddlers; thousands of photos and piles of albums; ribbons from her childhood; diaries and journals; love letters from Vaughn, her first love; get better cards, birthday cards and goodness alone knows what else.

In the weeks before her death Vic occasionally said “Oh Mommy, promise me you won’t get angry with me when you clear out my cupboards…” If only she knew how many tears I have shed clearing out her cupboards.

I must confess I have always had a memory box with Vic’s first little outfit ever, her first school uniform, all her report cards, a lock of her baby hair… I will add to this box the lock of Vic’s hair that Esther cut after she had died.

Never gone away…

I have received countless beautiful messages of encouragement, love, compassion and caring on my blog. Vic read my blog every day. The last couple of blogs I deleted because even I could read the despair in my words. Vic was in emotional anguish. She kept saying “Mommy, I don’t want to die”” or “Mommy, I am so scared”. She would wake up and cry with fear…

I have not replied to all the messages, but will systematically work my way through it. I did read the messages of encouragement and support to Vic. Right up until the end…. Vic loved the support we received.

It may come as a shock, but I am actually a very private person and allow very few people close to me. Through my blog people have come close to me, reached out and touched my hand and heart and I thank you for it! Vic often said she wanted to write and thank you all for your love and support. Sadly she never got to do it.

Over the past 8 months I have laughed and cried with you as you have laughed and cried with me. Some of you have written Vic beautiful poems and others have dedicated songs.

Thank you so much for your loving concern. For allowing us to enter your lives; for your encouragement and support. I shall continue to blog our survival journey.

Judy Unger http://myjourneysinsight.com/2013/01/28/never-gone-away/ has on a regular basis written me encouraging emails and shared her beautiful songs with us. I would like to share this special lady’s one email with you.

Jan 22, 2013

Hi Tersia,

I am continuing to write to you. You have entered the awful hole. You are now a member of the bereaved mother’s club. No one wants to join this club.

I read your post. The numbness is very bizarre. What purpose is there left to living – where did she go? I remember it all.

I continue to compose and sing. I was stunned when I wrote and recorded my new song “Angel in the Sky” just two weeks ago. Never has such a beautiful song come out of the sky to bless me. It is many years along for me – so I can sing about my angel with sweetness and without pain. I dream of when that time will come for you. For now, close your eyes and think of Angelic Vicky holding you tight.”

This is Judy’s latest song that she dedicated to her son who died 18 years ago. It is crystal clear that 18 years down the line Judy still mourns her son… I know in another 18 years I will still be mourning my baby girl’s passing. Thank you dear Judy for sharing your beautiful song with us.

NEVER GONE AWAY

I know that soon you will leave me

how will I ever say goodbye?

there’s so much you’ve left me

I’ll try hard not to cry

and when you’ve left you’ll still be with me

in all the songs I’ll long to play

every time I see a smile

you’ll have never gone away

It always seems to me, that whenever I was down

your hand was the one holding mine

but your fingers I’ll let go of now; how I long to hold on

you’ll touch so many others when you’re gone

I know that soon you will leave me

how will I ever say goodbye?

there’s so much you’ve left me

I’ll try hard not to cry

when you’ve left you’ll still be with me

in all the songs I’ll long to play

every time I see a smile

you’ll have never gone away

Sometimes I will stop and wonder

you’ll know what I am feeling

I’ll hear your laughter in my mind

I’ll remember all our special moments

They’ll run by with a tear

You’ll leave, but in my heart, you’re still here

And I know that soon you will leave me

how will I ever say goodbye?

there’s so much you’ve left me

I’ll try hard not to cry

when you’ve left you’ll still be with me

in all the songs I’ll long to play

every time I see a smile

you’ll have never gone away

http://myjourneysinsight.com/2013/01/28/never-gone-away/

–

Jan. 23, 2013

Hi Tersia,

Tersia, what can I say? I read your post. It is unbearable. There are no words. I think every bereaved parent suffers the helplessness of being unable to save his or her baby. Vic is your baby. The horror of her ending will eventually fade, but your opera has begun.

The amputation of a soul – there are no words for it. You will emerge from the fog, you will get through this – and you have already been through so much already. You had goodbyes – something that many bereaved parents long for. But with the goodbyes came god-awful suffering and trauma. How can you let go of that?

I think of the lyrics from my “Angel” song – “My lovely light – just not in sight.” Vic will always light your way now. She is not in sight – but that doesn’t mean she isn’t with you.

I know Vic is with me. I still smell her, sense her presence and find notes of love everywhere. Vic will always be the light of my life. I love and miss you Angel Child!!!

I RECEIVED MY SIGN!

Tuesday morning arrived. It had been a very long weekend. I battled with the eulogy and my broken heart. Everybody kept looking at me to make sure I was okay… Patting my hand and saying: “It is going to be okay!”

It is never going to be okay. Nothing can erase my child’s suffering and death from my mind. In time I suppose I will learn to live with the pain and longing, but it is NOT GOING TO BE FLIPPEN OKAY!!!!! EVER!!!

I have slept in Vic’s bed since her death to “demystify” her room. I also feel close to her. I can smell her in her pillow; I spray her perfume before I go to sleep.

After Vic passed and before the undertakers arrived I lay next to her lifeless little body. I spoke to her non-stop.

“Sweetie, If your soul is hovering in this room I want a clear sign from you that you are still with me…”

I woke early and prepared for the lousiest day of my life. I started chewing “Rescue” tablets. It was the only way I was going to get through the memorial service without making an absolute fool of myself. The boys looked so handsome! Their mom would have been very proud of her boys!

At the church the hearse was parked at the front door. Vic was already inside the church. A huge photo was on an easel and at least a hundred candles were burning around the casket. The flowers were beautiful. Vic would have approved.

I sat in the pew with tears running down my face. I could not believe that my baby girl was lying in that casket! That I would never see her, never hold her again, never hear her voice again. Sitting in church I could not remember her pain and suffering only my own.

The service was beautiful! The minister spoke from his heart and shared his memories of a brave young woman with almost 200 people. He said that not many people are ever prepared for death but Vic was to such an extent that she had planned her entire memorial service. He wiped a tear from his eyes where he spoke of Vic’s journey.

As instructed by Vic we sang “Amazing Grace” and “How great Art Thou”. I managed to sing – not a pretty sound though! My voice was all over! Vic would have giggled and told me that I sound like my mom!

I did the eulogy with the two boys standing on either side of me. At times my voice wavered and at times even I could hear how strong I sounded.

And then it was time to carry the coffin to the hearse for the FINAL part of Vic’s journey. I could hear the boys quietly sobbing as we carried Vic on her final journey. I felt my face contort with grief and tears.

The coffin was so light! I remember thinking “I wonder if Vic is really in the coffin….”

We lay single roses on the coffin. The two boys’ red roses and the rest of us pink…. Kari and Simone (Vic’s nieces) came up and stroked the coffin. They sobbed uncontrollably. I could hear people crying.

The minister said a final prayer, and it was time for Vic to leave.

The undertaker solemnly hugged me and closed the rear door of the hearse. It opened…. He pushed the coffin into position and relocked the locking mechanism. He closed the door again. Once again the door closed and opened!

“Vic is here and she is telling us she is going no where!” I said

People laughed nervously….

The undertaker unlocked the lock and pushed the coffin into position again. The undertaker locked the locking mechanism for the 3^rd time. He closed the door. This time it remained closed. Vic had gotten her message through to me…I received my sign.

My precious child is still with me.

“It is close”…

Tuesday 22.1.2013 – Tonight is the first night in a long time that I lay on my sofa, in my own TV lounge, watching Law & Order. I kept listening for the sound of Vic’s little feet shuffling down the passage…It is the first time since Vic’s death that I truly experienced the “emptiness” of the house.

The house has been so busy. In the days preceding Vic’s death the boys went to stay with friends and family. Vic’s suffering was too horrible for them to witness. I did not want them to remember life ebbing out of her. On the 15^th my brother arrived from the coast and my sister from a neighbouring city. I was in such a dazed stupor that I don’t remember them arriving. I fell asleep next to Vic with my head next to hers, and my hand on her heart whilst the minister was saying a prayer….

On Wednesday the 16th Leeann started staying with me. Danie, my brother, Lee-Ann and I took turns on Thursday night staying awake with Vic. The time still passed in an absolute maze of unreality. I knew on the 16^th that Vic would die by the weekend.

Vic was still able to communicate with her eyes. She blinked when I asked her a question and her answer were “yes”.

Thursday Dr Sue came to see Vic.

“It is close” Sue said.

Murky red urine dripped into the catheter bag…. Vic’s eyes no longer closed completely… Her eyes had “broken”… she was gasping for breath.

“We must increase the Buscopan” Sue said.

“I think I have heard a rattling sound once or twice” I said

“Yes” Sue said. “I can hear it clearly through the stethoscope”

Sue increased the pain medication as well as the sedation.

We decided to let the boys come and say their goodbyes… Someone, I am not sure who, went and fetched the boys from school. The boys walked into their Mom’s room. Their eyes wide and sad. They lay with her and whispered soft words into her ears. They softly kissed her and walked away. It must of been the hardest thing they had ever done.

I send Danie out to go find me a new blood pressure measure that fits around the wrist and would not hurt her little arms every time I took her blood pressure. (Sue had one…) I became almost obsessive in trying to ascertain where she was in her journey. Vic was very unstable – within minutes her blood pressure went from 150/123 to LO (too low to measure) on the machine. Her pulse was racing at 160 beats a minute.

I lay next to her with my hand on her heart. Her little heart was pounding against the palm of my hand. Vic was fighting with every fibre in her body to stay alive. I looked at my child and thought “If I have her admitted to the Donald Gordon ICU they may be able to save her…” but then I realized that it was futile. Vic was slipping away and nobody could do anything in the world to change that. Vic was dying and I was helpless. I could not save my child.

The mention of my child’s name

by Kim Knapp

The mention of my child’s name
May bring tears to my eyes,
But it never fails to bring
Music to my ears.
If you are really my friend,
Let me hear the beautiful music of her name.
It soothes my broken heart
And sings to my soul.
~~~~author unknown

http://www.thefuneralsite.com/ResourceCenters/Poetry_and_Quotes/Children.html

“More than you know”

I have received a couple of very touching emails from Judy Unger. I am an avid follower of Judy’s blog http://myjourneysinsight.com I have sensed from Judy’s blogs that she has suffered deeply. I have however always avoided reading her posts on her son Jason’s death. Somehow it is too close to home.

This week I received another caring email from Judy. Tonight I read Judy’s post on her Jason-Mark’s journey. http://myjourneysinsight.com/category/death-of-my-child-jasons-story/.

I wept for Judy.

With fresh, tearfilled eyes, I reread my email. I listened to Judy’s beautiful song and went to lay with my child. I held her gently and told her how much I love her. She is having a bad day and is feeling very frail.

Once again I share this remarkable woman’s caring email with you. Her words are flattering and the email personal. Yet I am compelled to share this email… I hope that you will listen to her beautiful song. Thank you dear Judy for baring your soul and showing your compassion. Thank you for reaching out to me!

I am always thinking of you at a time where you are putting one foot in front of the other. There is probably no word in the dictionary to express your exhaustion. Yet, you always find time to respond to every person’s comment with grace and kindness.

I loved your last post about tears. How beautiful that you could appreciate tears of joy, and not only of suffering at a time like this.

I have been deeply touched that you’ve shared my songs and words on your blog. It is unbelievable to me how in the short time I’ve know you, you’ve allowed me to help. I certainly hoped and wished I could. My own life has been enriched knowing that I was able to be there for you and Vic. The lovely comments by people who read your blog have also brought me to tears.

Since you have been Vic’s caregiver, you already know her absence will leave you with a deep abyss. It is so hard to have that devotion stop suddenly, because you will be going from plodding in exhaustion into nothingness. It is shocking because for so long, keeping Vic going has been your major purpose in life.

Now I want to share about another song that has helped me. It is my song named “More Than You Know.”

There are many levels to this song similarly to “Set You Free.” The main theme is of letting go. My song was written about friendship, but I revised it after my son Jason died. The lines that I find most applicable to losing my child was:

“I just can’t find the words to say how it felt when you went away”

With that line I am saying that nothing can possibly express the anguish of grief.

“I thought that you were mine.”

I believed that my child belonged to me. He was my purpose and I took care of him until he died. I could not accept his death for a very long time. That was why letting go was so hard.

Your own eloquent words acknowledge acceptance of Vic’s death. You are preparing yourself to let her go.

But there is no way to do that adequately.

I share with you my lyrics and song now. Since you have shared my messages, I want to provide a link here to my story about Jason. It helps to explain my songs and why I want to give you hope as you enter the darkness of grief. Your love for Vic will never end, nor her love for you.

Please know that you (or anyone grieving) can write to me any time. I am sensitive to grief in all forms, but because I am also a bereaved parent, I am especially sad when a child dies.

Link to Jason’s Story – myjourneysinsight.com

Here is my latest song to help you: MORE THAN YOU KNOW-Copyright 2010 by Judy Unger

MORE THAN YOU KNOW

You gave me your hand; you’d always understand

No one else could see all the change you’d seen in me

You gave me so much; within a single touch

I searched for a smile; you brought mine back for a while

I just can’t find the words to say

How it felt when you went away

All my life, I hoped you would stay

And when you left, I let you go

But I still love you, more than you know

I still love you

You brought me sunshine; I thought that you were mine

How can I believe? When the warmth of you did leave

You gave me everything that made me want to sing

How could I have guessed that our time would be my best?

I just can’t find the words to say

How it felt when you went away

All my life, I hoped you would stay

And when you left, I let you go

But I still love you, more than you know

I still love you

I echo you words.

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The mention of my child’s name

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