Grief – Page 3 – Vic's Final Journey

So many of my cyber friends have lost their children…these women and men have supported and guided me on my journey with Vic and held my hand in the early days of my grieving and heartache… They KNOW my pain. I found this poem on a bereavement site and would like to share (and dedicate) it to all the angel moms and dads out there. Thank you for your support, advice, encouragement and love.

My other cyber friends have done their best to understand and love – thank you all. I appreciate your compassion and continued support. I pray that you will never experience this pain. I pray that you will never become Angel Parents…

Angel Moms

We have shared our tears and our sorrow,
We have given encouragement to each other,
Given hope for a brighter tomorrow,
We share the title of grieving mother.

Some of us lost older daughters or sons,
Who we watched grow over the years,
Some have lost their babies before their lives begun,
But no matter the age, we cry the same tears.

We understand each others pain,
The bond we share is very strong,
With each other there is no need to explain,
The path we walk is hard and long.

Our children brought us together,
They didn’t want us on this journey alone,
They knew we needed each other,
To survive the pain of them being gone.

So take my hand my friend,
We may stumble and fall along the way,
But we’ll get up and try again,
Because together we can make it day by day.

We can give each other hope,
We’ll create a place where we belong,
Together we will find ways to cope,
Because we are Angel Moms and together we are strong!

Judi Walker

http://www.muchloved.com/gateway/bereavement-poems-and-funeral-readings.htm

Vic’s angel

Vic’s angel.

I love you Angel Child

100_7810 — Vic and her boys on her 38th birthday

I am at a stage where it feels as if it is impossible to recover from the pain of losing Vic. I am told that the grief will gradually get better and become less intense as time goes by.

The first few days after Vic died was so intense. Family and friends cried, and we comforted one another. The house was busy with people coming and going. The planning that goes into a funeral and the writing of the eulogy took a lot of time. My grief was raw and incredibly intense. My heart physically ached. I experienced feelings of anxiety, panic, sadness, and helplessness. Yet it is actually a surreal feeling… it felt as if we were removed from the world. It felt as if I looked in from the outside. I heard myself speaking and reacting mechanically…Old school friends phoned and I rushed to get through their words of condolences so I could ask them about their lives. I did not want to discuss Vic’s death. They must have thought I was crazy.

People said “you are so strong…”

When a loved one dies at home I think it is harder afterwards…There is a “mystique” to the room of death. The smell of death lingers and the room is littered with medication, blood pressure equipment, thermometers and syringe containers. Bedpans and vomit-dishes are still in the bathroom…

The planning of Vic’s memorial service actually helped me get through the first days after her death. Friends and family spend time with us talking and sharing memories about Vic.

Many times, people show their emotions during this time of ritual. Overwhelmed by Vic’s death we actually did not show emotion right away — even though the loss was very hard. We stood amongst our friends and family at the reception after the memorial service smiling and talking. To the world it must have appeared as if we were strong and accepting of Vic’s death. Being among other mourners was a comfort; it sort of reminded us that some things will stay the same.

But the time came when the far-away family left, friends went back to their lives and the steady flow of visitors stopped. In a way it was a relief. We were forced to stop and come to terms with the reality of the situation….the pain of the loss and the enormity of our grief.

Within a week we were back at work and school. People were and still are wary of us – they do not know how to handle our grief. We quickly learnt that other people are not interested in our grieving process…We stopped talking about Vic’s death…But although we no longer continuously talk about our loss, the grieving process not only continues but intensifies.

It’s natural to continue to have feelings and questions for a while after someone dies. It’s also natural to begin to feel somewhat better. A lot depends on how your loss affects your life. It’s OK to feel grief for days, weeks, or even longer, depending on how close you were to the person who died. I was told yesterday by someone who truly loved Vic that Vic’s death is only a reality when they are in our home. When they leave it almost becomes a distant memory….

The loss of a child is different to the loss of a parent. The boys’ grief is different to my grief… I will go further and say that the grief of a teen is different to the grief of an adult child who lost his aged parent.

Vic’s death has been a devastating, distressing experience in the life of the boys. Although the boys have spent the majority of their lives in our home their sense of security and stability in the world has been turned upside down. Vic’s death has become the defining event in the boys lives. The boys have begun to define their lives into two categories: “before Mom died” or “after Mom died.”

The boys and I have experienced a sense of relief, ambivalence; guilt and regret after Vic’s passing. The boys have categorically expressed their sense of relief that Vic’s intense suffering and pain is over. I prayed for Vic to die. This sense of relief has however brought on more guilt!

Jon-Daniel was the first of the boys who had to cope with the realization that Vic would not be around to celebrate rites of passage; Vic slipped into a coma the day Jon-Daniel received his school’s honours award for academic achievement…..

The boys are battling to cope with Vic’s death. Their grief is intensifying.

On the 8^th of April they will meet the Hospice Psychologist. On the 25^th we are flying down to Cape Town for 13 days. We need a change of scenery. We need to grieve without being told to “let Vic rest…”

I make a point of telling them that I miss their Mommy too. They light candles for Vic. I cry in my pillow.

I know that the boys will eventually move on. It is the way it is – children bury their parents. It is normal. But a parent should never have to bury their child…

For 38 years my beautiful child was the centre of my life. I lived for her. Now I merely exist.

I hear her say “Mommy I love you” and I whisper “I love you more than life angel child…”

I will not close down my blog

This is a very emotional time in all our lives. It is 8 weeks and 2 days since Vic died. We have all lived on our nerves for a long time and although we thought it would be a relief that Vic’s suffering was over, the grief has been overwhelming. Not only for the boys and I but also others that loved Vic…

I know the family is concerned about me. I know their concern stems from love.

I however need to blog. I need to hear from other bereaved parents that I am not going mad. That my grief is normal and that it is okay to grieve for my beautiful child.

I have subscribed to several blogs or sites for bereaved parents and it is not working for me. It is other parents words.

I will however borrow these words from another grieving parent

Dear Clueless

I would like to share with you my pain but that isn’t possible unless you have lost a child yourself and that I wouldn’t want you to have to experience. So with that being said, I would like to say this. I will try to my best to understand you if you try to understand me. I lost my child. My life will never be the same. I will never be the same again. I will be different from now on. I no longer have the same feelings about anything. Everything in my life has changed from the moment my child left to go to heaven. I will, on some days be very sad and nothing you say will changes that so don’t feel like it is your job to make me feel better on those days, just allow me to be where I am.

When you lose a child you not only lose your reason for living, you lose the motivation to go on. You also lose your sense of self. It takes a long time to come to some kind of understanding for why this has happened, if ever. Of course we who have lost children know we have to go on but we don’t want to hear someone else tell us too. Especially from someone who has not lost a child. It makes me and anyone who has lost a child want to say who are you to tell me that? Did you bury your child? I don’t want this to sound like I don’t appreciate everything you say because I know you mean well, but I just want you to appreciate where I am coming from too. I want you to understand that some of the things you say hurt me and others like me without you really knowing it. I know it must be pretty hard to talk to people like myself, not knowing what to say. That is why I am writing this letter.

If you don’t know what to say, say nothing or just say I’m sorry. That always works for me. If you want to talk ad say my child’s name feel free I would love to hear his name anytime. You not saying his name didn’t make me forget it, or what happened to him. So by all means say his name. When special dates come or holidays come please forgive me if I’m not myself. I just can’t keep it up on those days. I may wish to be by myself so I can think about my child without putting on a front. Most of all I want you to know I’m having a hard time with the death of my child and I am trying my very best to get back into life again. Some days it may look like I have accomplished that, and other days like I am at square one.

This will happen the rest of my life periodically. There are just no words to explain the living hell this feels like. There are no words that could ever do it justice. So please bear with me and give me time and don’t put your own timetable on my grief and let me be the person I am now and not have to live up to the person you think I should be. Allow me my space and time and accept me for me. I will try my best to understand you.

Love, Your Friend in Grief https://www.facebook.com/pages/Whispers-from-Heaven/604565892890783

So, if you are going to read my blog read it through my eyes and see my heart. If you are unable to handle the rawness of my words know that you are reading my soul. Remember that I don’t easily verbalize my emotions and this blog is my coping mechanism.

I have found hundreds of notes and journal entries in a file called “Our Story.” Vic loved my blog and wanted me to share “Our Story”. It was her wish. I will continue to do so.

So, love me in my time of sorrow and allow me to cope whichever way I can…. I love you too and appreciate your caring.

“I’ll meet you at the end of the earth”

I am systematically packing up Vic’s belongings. It has been a humongous job! Vic was a squirrel – she hoarded! I have discarded hundreds of old VCR tapes….thousands of photos and many hundreds of cards. The “Good luck with exam cards” were totally wasted on Vic – I came across her school reports again…; get better cards, I love you cards and thank you for your friendship cards from her school friends; lots and lots of Valentine cards… The one card that got to me was a card that read:-

“To My Daughter

So many times

When you were a child,

I looked upon your

Sleeping face

And wondered

What kind of woman

You’d grow up to be?”

Then on the inside of the card it reads “You grew up as wonderful as I imagined” Today I can categorically state that was not true. Vic grew up to be a far more wonderful person than I could ever have imagined. Vic was kind and generous. Vic always smiled. Vic loved unconditionally and never judged. Vic was devoid of bitterness and hate. She never spoke unkind words. Her bravery goes without saying… Vic is the bravest person I know. Vic always said “I am fine thank you…” The shrillness of the “fine” was the “stress-indicator” of how ill she was.

The cards her school friends wrote were to thank her for her friendship and support. Gia wrote on the 26^th of March – year unknown: “This is just a short note to say thanks for all your help, attention, help and love while I’ve been under the weather…” On the 28^th of October 1991 Tatum wrote “You’re a great friend and I am dreading this time next year when we all have to say goodbye. Thank you for being you and putting up with me…” Monique wrote “Thanx for everything. You know what everything is.” One of the Vicky’s wrote “as friends we have walked together sharing joy, laughter and tears. Though time may pass and things may change, I’m sure you’ll agree, That one thing always stays the same…each other’s loyalty” Mouse wrote “Vicks thank you for willingly giving help – be it a smile or a thoughtful thought – It may go unnoticed but it is appreciated” Gia ended most of her notes, cards and letters with “I’ll meet you at the end of the earth”

I truly felt like a grave robber going through Vic’s private correspondence. I cannot keep it all – there is just too much and I did not want to discard her whole life. So I have made a memory box of all her school dance invitations and photos, her friends’ notes, some boyfriends’ letters and her theatre season tickets. I have added some of the hundreds of cards I sent her over the years. Yes…Vic kept them all!!!!

How can I just wipe out her lifetimes memories? Vic treasured these items and I will keep it safely for her grandchildren to see one day… This memory box is her memory box. A tribute by her friends… It was an experience to “see” Vic in high school. Vic insisted on going to boarding school in High School, and she was accepted at one of the most prestigious girl schools in South Africa. Vic LOVED the freedom and camaraderie of boarding school. She got up to a lot of mischief! I have now personally seen the photos of what the girls got up too… But I am so glad.

I have come to realise that I never truly allowed Vic to grow up. I was an over protective mother and quite honestly maybe even a little overbearing. Vic always remained a child. Albeit a mature child and an old soul but never the less a child. From the day my beautiful baby girl was born I knew I had to protect her from the world. She was too tiny and beautiful for this horrible world we live in. Now my beautiful baby girl is safe from pain, hurt and the ugliness of the world.

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)

There is no limit

I have received many words of encouragement and support from so many people. Some just say “hugs” and other’s offer advice. One of my most loyal supporters is a lady called Miss Morgan’s Mom – She lost her 16-year-old daughter in a senseless accident. She lives her loss and grief pours from her posts. I remember one of her first posts I ever read on her blog she was counting the days (still does) and her grief was so raw and all-encompassing. I recall thinking “Oh God, is this what awaits me?” At the time I could only comment “hugs”…. A couple of posts ago she wrote that 14.5 months after Morgan’s death she is finding it more difficult to blog. People want her to move on…. get on with life.

Last week, a mere 3 weeks after my most precious child’s death I was told by people “Let her rest….Concentrate on the boys” ; “don’t let the boys see you cry…”

On Thursday I cried in front of the boys as I did this morning in the supermarket. I will not apologise for my tears. My child deserves my tears.

I realize people want me to move on because I scare them when I am sad. They are used to me being strong, fighting for Vic’s life, always laughing, always in control.

On Saturday Esther, Vic’s sis, asked me “So what does Google say? When do sisters start feeling better?” I replied “Never. you just get used to the pain”

I read this amazing post and had to share it. Reposted http://missmorgansmom.wordpress.com/2013/02/04/there-is-no-limit-to-ones-time-for-grief/

THERE IS NO LIMIT TO ONES TIME FOR GRIEF

Posted by missmorgansmom in Uncategorized and tagged with accountability, death, Dreams, drunk driving, Facts, faith, family, fear, frustration, grief, grieving mothers, grieving parents, Have Faith in Me,healing, hope, hopelessness, life, living, loss, love, Morgan Ray Dingus, mothers against drunk driving,mourning, pain, purple, Remorse, society, timeFebruary 4, 2013

When someone is grieving i believe in my heart that many if not all outsiders have the best intentions to help I truly do, but understandably they have no real concept on how long and how often the mourning need support or just understanding. People that lose loved ones, I have come to find that there is no limit to the time it takes for each individual to find their new normal. I think that sometimes when people view the lives of the sorrowful, they think that the person or people grieving should have come to terms with their loss after a certain amount of time. I have found this not to be true, I have sadly gained the knowledge that every moment to everyday is different. It is so hard to help people understand that we need to grieve as long as it may take. We all seem to have our own way to do this, whether it is to submerse our time into our work so that our mind has little time to feel the pain, or that we become some what of a recluse trying to understand our torture. There is no right or wrong way to grieve, there are no rules. I personally try to battle the pain by writing my feelings at that moment. I think some may not understand and my God am I thankful for that because I would not wish this on anyone. It is so important to me to put out there that when you see someone struggling and they may seem as if their path is destructive, it might not always be as it seems, sometimes we must look outside the box! This is because anyone who is grieving that keeps having emotions whether negative or positive has not given up the fight. I cannot identify my grief with anyones else, I have learned to accept the death of my father and step mother and although it still hurts, I have learned to move forward. I have found that burying a child is a completely different kind of grief for me anyway. I am moving forward, I am fighting to become a new normal. I have found that not just me but all other parents who are trying to win the fight are on this similar path and they may feel like there is no end, keep fighting. I want to post this link for those that may be fighting this fight to maybe offer support that you are not alone. I also want to post this for people who may just want to understand some of the process grieving parents may be going through. I am also posting some writings from this site that have heart felt meaning to me. https://www.facebook.com/pages/Grieving-Mothers/162680380444494

Dear Clueless I would like to share with you my pain but that isn’t possible unless you have lost a child yourself and that I wouldn’t want you to have to experience. So with that being said, I would like to say this. I will try to my best to understand you if you try to understand me. I lost my child. My life will never be the same. I will never be the same again. I will be different from now on. I no longer have the same feelings about anything. Everything in my life has changed from the moment my child left to go to heaven. I will, on some days be very sad and nothing you say will changes that so don’t feel like it is your job to make me feel better on those days, just allow me to be where I am. When you lose a child you not only lose your reason for living, you lose the motivation to go on. You also lose your sense of self. It takes a long time to come to some kind of understanding for why this has happened, if ever. Of course we who have lost children know we have to go on but we don’t want to hear someone else tell us too. Especially from someone who has not lost a child. It makes me and anyone who has lost a child want to say who are you to tell me that? Did you bury your child? I don’t want this to sound like I don’t appreciate everything you say because I know you mean well, but I just want you to appreciate where I am coming from too. I want you to understand that some of the things you say hurt me and others like me without you really knowing it. I know it must be pretty hard to talk to people like myself, not knowing what to say. That is why I am writing this letter. If you don’t know what to say, say nothing or just say I’m sorry. That always works for me. If you want to talk and say my child’s name feel free I would love to hear her name anytime. You not saying her name didn’t make me forget it, or what happened to her. So by all means say her name. When special dates come or holidays come please forgive me if I’m not myself. I just can’t keep it up on those days. I may wish to be by myself so I can think about my child without putting on a front. Most of all I want you to know I’m having a hard time with the death of my child and I am trying my very best to get back into life again. Some days it may look like I have accomplished that, and other days like I am at square one. This will happen the rest of my life periodically. There are just no words to explain the living hell this feels like. There are no words that could ever do it justice. So please bear with me and give me time and don’t put your own timetable on my grief and let me be the person I am now and not have to live up to the person you think I should be. Allow me my space and time and accept me for me. I will try my best to understand you. Love, Your Friend in Grief

Children are so fragile…..

Day 22 has finally arrived. Day 21 dragged on and on… I waded through a haze of misery today. Jared had an horrible day. I could see he had cried.

Jon-Daniel has a friend sleeping over. He is a young boy of 14 who lost his dad to a drug overdose a year ago. I asked whether he had been for counselling. He said he had but that it had not really helped.

“I had to get over it by myself” this old soul said.

“The shrink kept telling me I must forgive my dad. I hated my father for using drugs. So I stopped going. He wasn’t listening to me so there was no point…”

I have to travel to an exhibition in the UAE from the 16^th – 21^st of February. Upon my return the boys and I will go and see the Hospice psychiatrist again. I think we would have worked through enough grief to be able to cope with this part of our journey.

Children are so fragile. On the surface they appear to be coping yet the pain lies shallow…

Last night Jon-Daniel cried. Today Jared battled to breathe.

now and forever

Today at times I felt as if I was suffocating. It felt as if the grief had grabbed me by the throat and was strangling life out of me. My heart physically ached.

In the infamous words of Queen Elizabeth 11 “Grief is the price we pay for love.”

Vic was an only child. I spent the first 16 years of her life dedicated to Vic and only Vic. Vic’s dad and I separated early in our marriage. Even in the years that we were married he studied part-time and only got home from University after 10 at night. Weekends – well that was busy…

When Vic was 16 I married Danie. He became her dad and she embraced the fact that she now had siblings. Danie loved Vic with the same pure unconditional love that she had for her boys. Vic admired, respected and loved Danie for the wonderful dad that he was to her.

Tonight I cannot help but think and remember all the love and nurturing that went into Vic’s life, caring for her, raising her, nursing her when she was sick and taking her to the doctors, teaching her all the things she needed to know to keep her safe in this crazy world, teaching her the art of shopping, watching her get married, fall pregnant – twice, survive 81 abdominal surgeries, fighting for her life every single day. I loved the mother that Vic was. Caring and nurturing.

Tonight I remember Vic’s trademark – getting dressed in clothes every day before the boys came home from school, waking up to see them off to school every morning, arranging a party if she had one ounce of strength left! Vic appreciated seeing the light of day, getting out of bed, seeing the faces of her children. Every day she breathed was a day that mattered to her. Every day she used to make memories with her sons, family and friends.

Every day was one more than she had the day before.

She loved driving her little car. (Vic was a terrible driver!). Vic was the take-out queen. She LOVED take-outs! The last meal she ate was a bit of a Steers hamburger….

Vic was a good, honest, compassionate, caring person who loved loyally and deeply! She was strong-willed and fought for what she wanted. She did not tolerate disloyalty in any form.

Vic toured Egypt in a wheelchair and with a cane! Her biggest wish was to attend Jon-Daniel’s honours evening (4 days before she died) and to travel to Italy.

Vic was brave! She NEVER complained. She accepted that pain was part of her life; that being ill was her life. She seldom questioned the cards she was dealt. She accepted her life stoically.

I KNOW how hard it was for Vic to get out of bed. I know how easy it would have been for her to curl up and die very early in her life. She held on to life until the bitter end because giving up was not an option!

I thought I was well prepared for this period in my life. I prayed so long that God would release her tortured little body from the hell she lived every day. I spent years waiting and wondering how it will be. I have been told that I, of all people, should have been prepared for her death. After all I lived with my child’s terminal diagnosis for 10 years.

The short and the tall of the matter is that there is no way to be prepared. Researching the stages of death, the grieving process and even preparing her memorial service’s PowerPoint Presentation, in anticipation, could not prepare me for the pain that struck the second that my child died..

When I heard Vic’s breathing change I knew she was going. I knew that within minutes my child would be dead… Yet in the end, her death was still a terrible shock to me. How did it happen so quickly?

How do I go on?

Just as there are only some people we can really talk to about our children while they are alive, it seems that there are only a few people we can talk to about them once they have died.

When you lose a child you lose so much more that you may have been prepared to lose. I have lost my identity as a mom. I am no longer a Mommy. I may be a back-up mom to four wonderful young people who love me dearly, unconditionally and deeply but I am no longer a “real Mommy”. Mother’s Day will come and go…The four kids will celebrate the women who gave birth to them. The boys will not have a mom to buy a gift for and I will not have a child to wish me. I do know everyone will try very hard to make it easier for me. But Vic will not be here to wish me a happy Mother’s Day.

I have a hole in my heart. My heart physically aches. I want to die.

Tonight, 21 days after my baby girl’s death I remember a love and bond that was beyond description. I will continue to breathe; I will honour my promises to my child; I will bring up her beautiful boys; I will cherish her memories; I will grieve for my child. She was worthy of my love – she is worthy of my tears.

Sweetie I love you now and forever.

You Will Never Get Over it

Vic as a little girl

I have subscribed to a club…The Grief Club”. I will share the very first post I read with you.

You Will Never Get Over it

By

Corinne Edwards, Guest Author

We had a shocking loss of a young person in the family. My 21 year old son died in an accident. The next day, a friend came to see us. His son had been killed by a drunk driver. His words surprised me. They didn’t sink in until much later.

“You will never get over this. If you know this in advance, you won’t try. You will not struggle and condemn yourself for not succeeding.”

He was right. His words became a consolation. I stopped trying. That’s why I decided to write this article. I wanted to share my friend’s words with you. The old normal is gone. There’s a hole in your heart and your being that will never be filled.

I related to so many things the women confided. I read their stories – did the same things. I also felt my son around all the time. I went to psychics to try to contact him. I even attended a séance. I prayed for messages. I dreamed about him often. I imagined I saw him in a crowd of people. I wouldn’t let him go.

One psychic told me that those who have gone on to the other side are allowed to stay around for a while to help and comfort, but they won’t be here forever. I started feeling him less and less. I dreamed about him only once in a while. But he’s never left my heart.

After a period of intense pain, you’ll be different. The person you were is gone. It is an amputation. Eventually, a new person will emerge. It will be the new normal. A new life will start to take shape, but the limb you lost won’t grow back. You will have something in common with a soldier who bravely runs a marathon despite having a prosthesis for a leg.

As my friend said, you’ll never get over it.

This new person will have a life which includes peace, love and even laughter, community and new friendships. It can and will happen in your own time.

I believe there is a tiny gift inherent in every unspeakable tragedy. One is compassion. I could not have written that article for widows if I hadn’t experienced the grief of losing my husband. I would not have been able to connect.

Another gift is knowing how to help someone who’s in extreme pain.

The world doesn’t give you much time. You hear platitudes like “Life goes on” and “Thank God you have other family.” They say it as if another person can replace the one you lost. You get about two months to get over it. The truth is, they don’t know what to say. What they don’t know is that all they need to do is listen.

Part of the gift is giving someone else your time to listen far beyond the window normally allowed. You know they have no one to talk to. You reach out more. You know how important it is to tell the story, over and over.

The sharing of this gift, when you are able, will comfort you. You’ll stop struggling to get over it. You’ll trust that if you’re still on this earth, there must be a reason. The new normal person will find that reason. It may not exist yet, but every day it becomes more real..

© Corinne Edwards

http://www.personal-growth-with-corinne-edwards.com

I have so far to go!

Owkay mommy I will….

The boys and I visiting Vic in hospital last year.

It has been a day filled with back to back meetings. I coped well (I think) and managed to focus. It was strange not checking my phone every couple of minutes to see whether Vic is okay or not.

I sent the boys’ text messages early evening as the meetings continued into the night.

Me to Jared: “Hi baby – you okay?”

Jared: “Hey Oumie. I’m okay thanks and you?”

Me: “Missing you”

Jared: “Missing you too Oumie. This house feels empty”

Me: “Will phone later just in a meeting”

Jared: “Owkay Oumie”

Me: “Sleep tight angel! Pse wake me so I can see you tomorrow”

Jared “Owkay mommy I will!!! Love you!!! Missing you too Oumie”

Breathe in, breath out, breathe in, breathe out…. I could not look up. I was petrified that that my colleagues would see the tears that formed in my eyes.

These poor boys! They are stoic in their grief. They carry on bravely at school and with all their extramural activities. They are so young to have gone through so much pain and loss. They lost their childhoods to Osteogenesis Imperfecta and doctor error; they have watched their mother suffer horrific pain, lose her dignity…Yet they witnessed their incredibly beautiful mother fight every second of her life to stay alive… She showered them with love and taught them independence. She was strict and her favourite words to them was “I am your Mother not your excuse”

The boys are brave like their warrior mother! A credit to her!

I wish I could wipe the pain from their hearts and memories. There is however no Ketamine Infusion for emotional pain, only for physical pain. I wish I could protect them for pain and loss but I cannot. I must continue with the phenomenal work their mother started in their upbringing. I must help them to continue growing and individuals on this path Vic put them on…

I miss my child more than I ever thought I would. I honestly thought, because of the extended “Anticipatory Grief” period, that we went through, the grief would be less after Vic’s death. That anticipatory grief is however NOTHING compared to the pain we are experiencing 17 days after Vic’s death. I don’t know whether I will ever get used to this void in my heart.

Will I ever be able to breathe without pain again? Will I ever sleep again? Will I ever laugh spontaneously with joy again?

I actually just don’t want to live with this pain…..

I miss being Mommy

I so desperately need to articulate my pain and yet I cannot. Words are inadequate and empty. There are not enough adjectives in the english language to describe my indescribable pain and longing for my precious child. Yet, my cyberfriend Judy has articulated my emotions pretty accurately. So in the absence of my own words I am posting Judy’s email to me.

Thank you Judy. Your words do help. What a horrible area to be experienced in – the world of grief….

Judy is right. I just want my child to be with me. I miss her more than I ever imagined I would. The void is like a never-ending well of despair. I miss being a grandmother and I miss being a Mommy….I am only a back-up mother now. An empty vessel.

Thank you all for your love and support.

Tersia,

I am not telling you that I know how you feel. I cannot know. Grief was so isolating and lonely that even when I had people caring about me, I remember my mind screaming that I would give anything to have my child back! It was such a horror. I could not concentrate upon anything. I could not read a single paragraph and know what I had just read. I could not sleep. I did not want to be alive anymore.

You are so supported – I see message after message flying across cyberspace to hug you. I see a lot of messages telling you to stay strong. I think what is typical for being a caregiver is the constant suppression of emotion. You were Vic’s caregiver for decades. You learned how it was important for you to be strong. I see how concerned you are about staying strong for everyone around you. I remember when I decided I wasn’t able to be strong anymore.

So staying strong might pose a conflict for you. At some point, all of your emotions might start to surface. It is terrifying. I was tired of hearing how my child’s suffering was over. Inside I screamed, “Why did my child ever have to suffer!!?” That was the beginning of my feeling very angry. Anger was a difficult place to be in, but it is a stage of grief. Men and woman grieve very differently, too. Navigating that was more than I could handle, so I retreated to be with other grieving mothers.

I’m wondering if my words are helpful. I guess I just want you to know that you are on a road that you will survive. You know that. Life will never be the same. You know that. Some people cannot enter the doorway of grief. They succumb to it. You have entered the doorway and are plunging ahead into the darkness. It hurts so much!

Love, Judy

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!!!

Mommy’s home!

Vicky dripping in pearls... — Vicky dripping in pearls…

It is now 10 days since my beautiful child’s body came to rest… I cannot believe it is already 10 days and on the other hand I am amazed that it is only 10days….

Vic came home today. She was delivered in a little wooden box. The plaque simply reads “VICKY BRUCE 31.8.1974 – 18.1.2013”

The boys walked in after archery and Jon-Daniel said “Mommy’s home!”

Tonight the boys went through Vic’s cupboards to make up memory boxes. We laughed as we shared precious memories. The boys were selective in what they chose. Jared wanted one of Vic’s favourite Egypt T-shirts and Jon-Daniel her favourite track suit top… A lipstick and her driver’s licence; a brush each….

We opened her safe and in Vicky style everything was labeled and marked….

Her first pearls that she received as a little girl from my brother and his wife had a little note in the box…”Received from Johan and Henda when I was their bridesmaid. I would like them to have it back. I love you more than words. Johan you were always my hero! Henda you are amazing”

A note attached to two sets of earrings “For my boys from Mommy. These were from you”

Pink and white pearls labeled – “Received from Mommy and Daddy. Thank you for always loving me so much. I give these back to you now.”

My heart is shattered. I want to die.

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

Tag: Grief

Angel Moms

Vic’s angel

I love you Angel Child

I will not close down my blog

“I’ll meet you at the end of the earth”

Tony’s poem

There is no limit

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now and forever

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You Will Never Get Over it

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Owkay mommy I will….

I miss being Mommy

Never gone away…

Mommy’s home!

The mention of my child’s name

The mention of my child’s name