There’s a fear of something slipping from your fingers as time passes after the loss of a child, obviously there is pain and tears, but as time passes the intensity subsides and the sporadic episodes of loss decrease, but as this transition back towards normality naturally happens I find myself grasping for something intangible that’s lost, that connection, that emotional honesty that the loss brought. Because as the world turns and life begins to return to normal I feel I’m losing the last moment with my daughter.
Then there’s the guilt about all the time I have spent focusing on my own needs at the expense of my other child, my family, my partner. Am I really that selfish that my needs are greater than theirs, no, but it’s messed up. It’s not any one’s fault that she died, yes there were missed opportunities to catch this vile disease that is cancer. But those opportunities are gone, focusing on those cannot bring her back, and I’m not strong enough to go there, it doesn’t matter because it will not change anything.
My focus now is on those happy times, when we laughed or when we cried, those moments of comfort and connection that enriched our lives, those cathartic times together with her loved ones both friends and family when we tell stories and laughter fills the void banishing the darkness of grief.
Will I ever recover from that fait-full night, no, there is a scare burned into my heart that will never mend, and honestly I don’t want to let got of that pain at the moment, but I am stronger now, and will survive.
Your heart is an elastic organ it can grow to accommodate the love for a second child, it can survive the pain from a breakup, and it can survive, although changed, the loss of a child.
So what does the future hold? Who knows, small steps and take those opportunities presented because there is no guarantees in life, except death.
