Tuesday, 4 September 2012

Dear Alex, 11 months today...already...







4th September 2012


Dear Alex,


The end of another school holidays…which also marks the 11th month anniversary since your accident…It's been nearly a year, and by far and away has felt like a lifetime has passed...


Not surprisingly it has been a day of emotion.


Our youngest starts school tomorrow, that’s it, last one there. I thought I was alright with it. That she’s ready, I can’t carry on trying to do all I am and at the same time be there enough for you and for the kids. Pulled in all directions, with Esmie safe at school, I know she will do well. But then as I sit and think about the fact that she is ‘off’ that the school years pass so quickly, that you’re still not a daddy at home to bring up the kids, give them the sound advice you always did, that this last year Esmie, I feel, I have dragged around with me, visiting you and organising things for you, I feel for her, especially, she has missed out on the year, a crucial year, the last before she starts school and I won’t ever get that time back.


With every next step, a new school day, a birthday, something that marks time and how it chases us, and how the one thing we have no control over is how fast it wants to speed us along. With all these moments, I feel emotional and feel guilty, feel I haven’t done all I should, and it’s now too late.


A song on the radio in the car on the way home hit me with the unexpected ‘grief tears’ in front of the kids, and I cry, Lola’s hand on me, Monty looking worried in the back, the other two sleep. I always explain the tears, laugh about my teary induced ‘squeaky voice’ and mascara tracks…I always let them in, and pull myself through and cuddle them, find a quiet moment later on with them to explain again, and re-enforce that I am OK, even if I cry. We cuddle lots before bedtime, they’re nervous and excited about starting back…

Esmie and Mitzi have formed a wonderful tight friendship this holiday, as the other two have been old enough to play out the front with a few school friends who live in the neighbouring houses, Esmie and Mitzi have spent lots of time together, and it’s been a privilege to witness their friendship blossom.

We spent the day at the hospital, made bunting for their Tea-party they had this afternoon, and I have never seen you chatter as much, so much clearer at times…your laugh is contagious and everyone including the kids enjoy today so much.

But then when it’s time to leave you grab out, panic, tell me not to leave you, you want to come home with us. I can’t imagine what this does to you and you scream and thrash about, angry, confused, upset. No amount of reassurance that I’ll be back tomorrow, first thing, comforts you, and a guy from the centre talks to you, a nurse brings you a coffee, and you do settle. But the ending has stripped me of the high I was on when you were so on form and so happy.

Monty looks at the clouds on the way home, suddenly says ‘hey, mum, look! There’s an eagle landing on the earth…’ and sure enough, the cloud’s shape was a bald eagle swooping down towards earth…it was so clear, and it was a breathtaking sight…

This period of time is difficult, not knowing, accepting, flash backs of how you used to be…I have learned to go with it a bit more. Times I feel this, times I am numb, times I am OK, times I have relentless sleepless nights plagued with violent nightmares where I am being pulled and it seems people are pulling at me and I wake myself trying to shout and scream, and the covers are off me and I am sure I was gripping them tightly around me. These dreams are so real, so terrifying and I sweat and panic and dare not go back to sleep again. You would have been there to cuddle me in your big arms, comfort me, stroke my hair till I fell back to sleep…now I have to do it trying not to disturb the kids and alone…

Tomorrow is school again, despite the setback by your emotions plummeting when it was time for us to leave, we had an amazing day together, your laughter and you being so on form brought a smile to everybody’s faces…


I am able to see you tomorrow on my own, and I am looking forward to that…


Someone sent me a quote which was very encouraging:


"By not knowing, not hoping to know and not acting like we know what's happening, we begin to access our inner strength." Pema Chodron.

I am working on that inner strength, it’s a constant battle, but I am always up for the challenge!


See you tomorrow Alex, I hope sleep brings you healing and comfort and rest,



Me xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

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