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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