All posts tagged: Grief

On Love: A Letter to God

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I will always think of our relationship in terms of before and after. Not in the “Christian” way of before and after I received you as my Lord and Saviour. No, Siree! But in the way of before and after my son died. It is no surprise to you, this redefinition of relationship terms on my part. I have never doubted that You had known from the very start what You had put in my womb. You knew my baby was only being lent to me for a very short time. You also knew me, as you had created me and You knew where his death would lead me. You had made me  head strong. You had given me the gift of questioning the givens. And the gift of writing. And the one of being loud about my upsets. So You had known, from the word go, that I would not stand by and accept the pain of losing my son with “dignity.” You had known that his death would transform me. Profoundly and forever. …

Anger

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I am so angry tonight. I don’t recall being so very angry ever before. I am so angry I could punch someone, with the intention to harm and hurt. I am so angry, I could smash my whole house down. I am so angry, I had to get out of bed and come and write this as my therapy. I am so angry, I do not care who reads this and how it could be misinterpreted. I am so angry, I just want to scream. Last night, I found out the cancer Georgie had has been doing fresh victims. But most likely, my search for an answer to the “why?” will remain forever unanswered. As people do not want to associate with parents who have lost their children. As if losing a child makes me or my lost child losers. They think they are special. Different. Not like me. They do not understand that malignant cells do not have prejudices and unless stopped at the root cause, they will do the same harm, again and …

Do you know…

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Do you know how close I am to the brink each and every day? Do you know how much it takes out of me, to act as if everything is okay? Do you know how my heart aches when I see your brand new boy? Do you know how far I feel from everything that will ever mean joy? Do you know how much courage it takes to choose to live every single day, When the alternative to stop breathing and wither away brings less disarray ? Do you know how your never tested faith reeks insult to my broken heart? Do you know how your reminders of heaven nail me to the ground? Do you know that it can never be enough, To have only one child with me, while the other’s shadow hangs over us? Do you know how hard it is to reveal my bruised heart to you, Knowing that, most likely, you do not have a clue? Do you know that my baby has been gone now 11 months, And that …

Grieving journey

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I haven’t written about our grieving journey for a while. But I live with grief, as an unwelcome foe that has been forced into my life. I cannot shake the reality of it. Oh, how I wish! I know that I have written before about the do’s and don’ts when it comes to dealing with grieving parents. Recently, I have felt the need of a new post, to include new strategies for coping with it and also hurtful things you SHOULD NEVER say to a hurting parent. 1. Don’t say “I could become like you by spending too much time in your company.” I get it, it is depressing and off putting to watch someone mop around over their dead child. But guess what? We did not choose to be in this position and I would give anything not to be here. Even my own life, to bring my child back and give him a future on this earth. 2. Don’t say: “I do not understand you.” We know that, we truly do. As bereaved …

When do I miss you?

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I miss you in my dreams, I search for you futilely and desperately But I can never find you, my son. I miss you when the dreams wake me In cold sweats. I miss you at the crack of dawn When you should be snuggling against me, And search for comfort and my love. I miss you first thing in the morning. The house is too quiet Without what you should have been. Without your presence, Without your giggles, Without your joy. I miss you when I work, I work with so many lovely little boys. And I always wonder How you would have looked, And how you would have been. Would you have been shy or gregariously loud? Would you have liked Maths? Would you have loved story books like Emma? Would you have liked trucks or trains? Yoghurt or apples or rice? I miss you when I sit quietly for lunch Back home. I imagine you being with me. I remember you playing under your baby gym This time last year. I can …