100 days of searing pain….


Does time really heal all wounds? Mothers who have lost  a child to death assure us that “it will get better.” Friends and loved ones have started telling me that “it is time to get over it and get on with life.”

Researchers say that a mother never ceases mourning the death of her child. I believe this finding.

In those immediate hours, after my precious child’s death, time stopped.  My life ground to a halt.

At Vic’s Memorial Service I was amazed that people rushed off after the service and tea to meetings, to pick up children from school…I remember thinking that everyone had already moved on…

I stood next to the hearse not wanting it to leave.  I rested my hand on the wood of the casket…I wanted to pull my child out of that darn coffin and wrap her in my arms.  I was not ready to say goodbye.

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Today it is 100 days filled with searing pain and longing since Vic left home for the last time.

I have begun to mark time differently.  I count the number of days, weeks and months that I have mourned and missed my child. 

I know that every day that passes is one day closer to me being with my beloved child again.  I know that Vic’s suffering is over; I know that it is for the best that Vic’s dreadful pain filled life is over…. It does not make my mourning less.

So today I am burning candles for my child.  I am praying that my child is at peace.  I am praying for grace to endure this longing.  I pray that I will have the strength to continue honouring Vic’s memory….

I pray that I will be worthy of the trust she put in me to look after her precious boys.

On the surface it appears as if the boys are coping well.  I heard a comment from a teacher this week saying that, despite the trauma they went through with Vic’s death this year, they are actually doing better than last year.

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It was so difficult watching her suffering!

So today, once again, I say “Rest in Peace my beautiful Angel Child”

 

I RECEIVED MY SIGN!


ImageTuesday 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 3rd 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.

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