Bereavement, Grief
Comments 15

On Death

Every so often, I imagine myself visiting with Georgie in heaven.

It usually happens when I have my reflexology sessions as it is the only time I can relax deeply and give Georgie and our love a whole hour, uninterrupted.

This week, I didn’t want to leave him in my imagination.

I just wanted to stay there or somehow, drag him back into this world.

I imagined myself sitting down with him, in a field of high-definition coloured flowers and under a magnificently wide-branched, silver tree and told him again and again how much  I missed him.

And I told him that I do hope it will not be long before I get to go there too.

These thoughts, before you reach for the phone and call me in panic, are not suicidal thoughts, my friend.

For most people, Death is such a scary word and notion.

I get it too well, I used to be the same before Georgie died.

But now, Death seems more like a friend.

After all, it got to take my baby places I cannot go and Death and I, we are no longer enemies.

Life seems so heavy at times, like a cloak I wish I could just shake out of.

And Death keeps visiting places and taking souls away, souls who weren’t ready for the journey.

Hey, Death, how about me?

I am so weary of this and hang on by a thread called Emma.

I do hope one day, not too far in the future, when she is all grown up and happy and safe,

I hope that you and I will meet up again.

And like old pals, you will show me the way.

The way that takes me right to where my other love is.

The place where expectations and strife and frustrations do not exist.

The place where it is okay to just sit and rest, holding your baby in your arms.

The two of us, Death, will sit down for a while.

And will look at the two worlds we would be sat between.

And will not rush from one into the other.

As Time would be a notion of the past.

And I will thank you, Death.

For being the only Hope that kept me going.

When the cloak of Life got too heavy,

I knew.

I knew that you were never really too far away…

sea waves

This entry was posted in: Bereavement, Grief
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Mum of one beautiful girl on earth and one sweet baby boy in heaven. Daughter of a wonderful woman. Wife of a very entrepreneurial man.


  1. Oh Oana, this post had me in tears. I wish there were something I could do to ease your pain and suffering but I know there is nothing that will. Big virtual hugs to you! I am pleased that you are able to feel connected with Georgie during your reflexology. I can imagine this time of year being exceptionally difficult, with the run up to Christmas and Georgie’s 2nd birthday approaching. Stay strong, and don’t be afraid to seek help if you need it. I hope that in time you are able to have a little hope for a happier future xx xx Sending you so much love

  2. I am sobbing wet hot tears. My niece used to say she wished she could stay as sleep as L (her son) we there. Thinking of you and yours

  3. Keep hanging on to your thread called Emma, Oana. You express yourself beautifully, even though your subject matter is so raw and difficult. My heart goes out to you and your family. xx

  4. Oh Oana sending you a great big hug. I can imagine I would feel exactly the same. Georgie will want to see you leading a long and happy live before you meet again, he will want to hear all about it so make sure you have lots to tell him xxx

  5. Oh lovely sending all the love to you although I know it does nothing to ease any pain. I hope you will enjoy life to the full to show him him how much you lived for him. I have read a lot of BabyBoyBakery and don’t know if you have ever read her blog but she lost her son when he was three and some of her words might bring the briefest of comfort to you. x

  6. You really do write so beautifully even under the harshest of circumstances. I can’t even begin to imagine your pain, though reading this I feel it with you and understand just a tiny bit. Keep clinging to the thread that is Emma and keep connecting with Georgie, and keep writing so beautifully and you’ll make through.

  7. Oana i felt every word of this post. I am sure Georgie is watching over you, your husband and Emma and will welcome you with open arms when the time is ready, but that time is not now – you have so much more to give

  8. I loved this post, although I wish you hadn’t had to suffer such a tragic loss to be able to write it/ I think your view is remarkably peaceful. I’ve been told before that death is like going home and I think that is a wonderfully comforting thought

  9. Oh my gosh Oana, this is so beautiful. THIS should go viral. It must be so painful and yet I hope the thought of that future there with Georgie must somehow bring hope and peace maybe? Sending hugs, useless as they are, especially being virtual😦 xx

  10. I am so so sorry😦 I am glad you have something to hold onto here and something to look forward to when that time comes as well. x

  11. Oh Oana if you were that bit closer, I’d give you a big squeezy hug. It’s no consolation I know but I feel pretty helpless from this side of the keyboard. I’m so sorry, I cannot imagine how you feel and some days, most days in fact, must be so difficult. Keep hanging onto Emma and definitely keep writing, you write beautifully x

  12. Mimi Makri says

    Oanna mou, with tears in my eyes I wish I were near you to hug you sweetly and ask you to turn your back to Death for many many years. I don’t know what to say. It’s frustrating that we don’t live near so that I can hear you and hold you and give you some little consolation. Your friend, Mimi

    • I know, Mimi mou, I wish you two did live closer, it would be such a huge help to talk to someone who cares and understands for us as much as you do.
      I am not suicidal, just so very sad at times. They say it is normal and everybody who has lost a child goes through this at least once in the healing process. We hold on to the hope that one day, somehow, our lives will look a bit brighter, once again. Our love, as always.xxxx

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