All posts tagged: Grief

“Dear Parent…”

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“Dear parent of a gravely ill child, Or a perfectly healthy little one. This letter is for you. And you. You worry about their fate. You want the best for them, of course you do. Your love is deep and wide and reached to the very heart of God. If only love was enough… You trust your God to protect them out of harm’s way. No matter what your God is. Whether it is Allah or Buddha or Yahveh. Or karma. Or the Virgin Mary. Or Mother Earth. We all need to trust in something bigger than ourselves. I trust in God. I trusted in God with my baby boy. I am sure parents of any denomination, faith, affiliation, belief or lack of will tell you all the same thing: they trusted too. They trusted in the universe to do what our most innate instinct tells us it is the right thing. The innocent, the pure, the beautiful. The vulnerable. They certainly will be spared the pain. They will certainly be protected from the worst. …

Seven months on as a bereaved parent

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It has been seven months since Georgie died. Seven long and extremely taxing months. Taxing on our emotions, our mental health, our relationships, our bodies and souls. Looking back, here are the ten things I have learned from the past seven months: 1. Grief is like a sneaky thief, it shows up uninvited and robs you of any remnant of joy and hope. There are no rules in the grieving game, grief doesn’t stick to any rules. It strikes whenever it pleases and the pain can last for weeks and weeks. 2. Grief affects EVERY aspect of your life. There is no area that has been left untouched by grief. My body has been affected, I have put on weight because to me, food is a comfort now. My mind has been severely affected, I have become very forgetful and I have trouble focusing on and staying on plan. My sleep patterns have been altered as well, there is hardly any night I don’t wake up to think and process what has happened to my …

Grief is…

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…a whirlpool, we were told in counselling last week. It sucks you in, when you least expect it and it spits you out, exhausted and drained. …a maze, out of which you never quite manage to emerge, I read. You pass from one chamber to another, sometimes chased, just like in the Maze Runner, not by a griever but by Grief. Sometimes you crawl through it, from one chamber to another and back again where you started: shock, anger, acceptance, pain, shock, anger… …anger plus despair plus pain plus loneliness. All at once, on any given day. …a loud banging-like noise in your head that deafens you to any other noises of this world. All you feel like doing is shout back. But at whom? And to what effect? …never knowing how to play your emotions. Play them down and they come flooding over, like a tsunami, when you least expect it. Play them up and people drain away from you, like water off the surface of dry, parched up land. Grieving emotions are inconvenient …

31 Days of Grief: Community vs. Retreat

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I am running behind with this writing challenge so I will most likely write in clusters of two from now on, especially since we will be travelling to Greece this weekend and will be away the whole Halloween week. Last week we remembered, as a community of bereaved parents, our lost children. It was a bitter sweet evening, seeing the Internet light up with candles and the realisation that so many beloved souls are away, waiting for us in Heaven. We also took Saturday evening to spend with local bereaved families, get to know them and their surviving children and remember together our babies, gone too soon. I am so grateful for this community to which we were only introduced this September and I am so thankful that we do not have to do this journey alone. The pain of losing a child is terrible but carrying the burden alone is equally painful. I am also grateful for the fact that Emma has found friends among the children present there and she now understands that …

On grief, anger and pain

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It’s been two months since my baby died. I remember reading this post back in July, on the 5th, the day my baby died, and having no clue about grief. How could I have had? The numbness wore off. The numbness that followed the indescribable pain of watching my sweet son die. The baby that I longed for with fierceness, the boy who was so bright and was meant to become a doctor and save so many lives, according to his doting Bica. My mini me… And numbness was followed by anger and searing pain. In a chaotic and overwhelming melange of emotions and feelings. I have been angry. With everyone. With myself. With God. With Alex. With Emma. With people saying things. With people not saying things. With pregnant women. With women with babies. With people sending me shitty links meant to “guide” me through my grieving process. “Spiritual” links. With people staring dumb-folded when I say I lost my baby.  But do you know what has been the overwhelming feeling since the numbness …