All posts filed under: Bereavement

One step forward….1000 back

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Grief is unpredictable, heavy and messy, the books say. To know all these facts is one thing. To live them, is another… I thought I was doing better. I thought we were maybe out of the darkest woods. But then, I got to the point where I couldn’t work outside our home. It’s okay, I said the myself, I can still do things from here. But I can’t. I have found everything such a struggle. I can manage a maximum of three days of work out of the five. I get so anxious about balancing work and caring for Emma and the house that juggling all the balls is a job in itself. I am back to waking up at night. And being so, so scared. Of the present. Of the future. Emma has kicked off again on Sunday. She told her daddy that her “mummy loves one child and it isn’t me!”, in floods or tears and rage. I went to see my GP yesterday. This time, this one was kind and understanding. She …

Children’s Grief Awareness Week UK

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Last week I wrote a blog post about Emma’s struggles as a bereaved sister and Vicky, a bereaved mummy and friend, commented with information about Children’s Grief Awareness Week in the UK. Information about Children’s Grief Awareness Week can be found here, and I will let you skim it in peace, in your own time. All I will mention here is that it is organised by Grief Encounter in collaboration with the Childhood Bereavement Network and a wealth of information and resources are only a click away from the link I included above. What I feel I need to contribute to this initiative is a personal account of how difficult bereavement has been for us as a family and especially for Emma, as a sibling. I will also include what has worked for us, when it comes to grief support for Emma, and what other alternatives have been suggested to us by people who are either specialists, educators or have suffered the death of a sibling when they were young. Some of these suggestions  you …

On Death

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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 …

Her New Favourite Colour is Yellow – Sibling Grief

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Emma was only 4 when Georgie died and, most appropriately for her age, she took everything in her stride. She accepted without questioning that Georgie went to heaven. She played tea parties in the chapel where his little body rested for three days, undisturbed by the reality of his departure. After the funeral, she got back to her only-child life without any qualms, or so it appeared at the time. But as she grows up, her anger with the situation and her questions grow bigger and bigger too. Half-term was hell term for us. Alex worked long hours that week and instead of having a great week off, spending it relaxing and recharging our batteries, Emma and I spent it at each other’s throats. I haven’t been great myself for a number of weeks so having a screaming, unhappy child for whom nothing was quite right drove me to the brink of insanity several times that week. I did start to make sense of what was happening the week after, when I picked on the …

To the mother whose child was just given the all clear…

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I rejoiced with you this week, when I read your good news. I rejoiced with you from the darkness of my bereaved parent existence, knowing that you will never get to know my reality. I rejoiced for your son and I breathed a sigh of relief, knowing the pain my son endured in the last two weeks of his life and that fact that yours was spared all that, and you the totally heart-wrenching feeling of helplessness of having to watch him die. But your social media update, which was picked up by so many churches, individuals and even by a local newspaper, made me very sad too. You see, your update, as hope giving as it is meant to be, (as I do suspect you see it now as your life “testimony” to the Church, a confirmation they so desperately seek of a God who can perform miracles), has totally left out several facts and a huge group of parents and believers who have fought “the good fight”, just like you, but never pulled …