Goodnight My Darling

We meet you tomorrow my darling.

You must feel terrified and confused and angry and lonely. So lonely.

We’re here. We’re thinking of you. Wishing we could scoop you up tonight and tuck you in and kiss you goodnight. But it’s another Mother’s job tonight.

We’re going to be rubbish tomorrow, but my god we’re going to try our best for you, my darling.

People keep telling me that you are lucky to have us, but I think it is us that are the lucky ones. Because of your trauma, you have fallen into our care. There certainly is nothing lucky about that. 

We are the lucky ones because we get to love you. 

It’s a strange thing, falling in love with pieces of paper. I don’t know your face or your name. But I feel responsible and protective somehow.

A mothers love, I guess.

Even if you never call me Mum, you are going to make me a Mother tomorrow, and for that I can never thank you enough.

Until tomorrow my darling.

Things will be different tomorrow. I promise.

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Me and my councellor

I’ve been seeing a councellor for three weeks now.

I wasn’t loosing it, I wasn’t angry, I wasn’t bitter or having twisted thoughts, I wasn’t crying all of the time, I wasn’t tired or depressed, I wasn’t suicidal or struggling with my marriage or at work.

But I don’t want any of the above to happen if i don’t have the toolset to help me cope with that.

I don’t want to be bitter.

I want to face grief head on.

 

It’s good too.

I like speaking about Dad. Remembering and enjoying telling a stranger about how amazing he was. Sometimes it all sounds to good to be true, like I am making it up. This makes me appreciate how truly lucky I am to have him.

Don’t get me wrong, its not all silly anecdotes and fond memories. Some feelings are raw and hurt very much. I need to learn to express and work through these feelings too. They are just not as easy to come through, when I am so used to looking for the positives all of the time.

I’m just saying, I’m pleased I am having councilling.

I am not ashamed of it.

I think it is a fantastic and free resource available to everyone and anyone and I couldn’t recommend it highly enough.

Every week I feel more and more accepting of my new reality.

Farleigh Hospice really do life changing work, with all that walk through their doors.

immortality

When you loose someone close to you, you are reminded that we are not going to live forever.

This reality check gives you two options:

  1. be sad about the idea of dying
  2. live everyday you have left to the fullest

I don’t know about you, but number two sounds far more tempting!

Im going wild this year. I’m leaving my well paid and steady teaching career, I’m shaving my head, I’m painting my skin, I am starting a business, I am travelling the world, I am becoming a parent… all in 12 months.

Have no regrets.

Life is too short.

My aim is to inspire you to do the same, okay you don’t all have to shave your heads, but my challenge to you is to live life to the fullest. Everyday. Not just on Saturday.

Say yes not maybe

run don’t walk

forgive quickly

and love everyone

 

because life is short and living life is wonderful.

 

 

 

 

Feelings on Father’s Day

How am I doing this year?
I’ve been thinking about Dad extra amounts this week. More has reminded me of him. I’ve felt quieter and more subdued. I’ve been nervous about how today would be. 

This morning I’m trying to keep busy, but also keep in mind the knowledge that I can still celebrate Fathers Day. I have a wonderful Dad, that in twenty six years with me, gave me a wonderful childhood, advice and so much love. 

Looking forward, this time next year, we will be celebrating Father’s Day in a different way. We will be parents, caring for our gorgeous little boy or girl. A child far less fortunate than myself, in regards to parenting. Jim will step into that role. He will be wonderful. He is so much like my own Dad. 

Please don’t feel sorry for me, or any other grieving children today. Just promise me you will spend time with your own Dad’s while you still have the chance.

Haircuts

I have avoided the hair salon for 7 months.

Instead I have been cutting my own hair in that time, you’ve probably noticed, but I couldn’t face it.

I couldn’t face the usual questions…

So what have you been up to…

So what’s new…

Any holidays planned

I wouldn’t know how to answer them.

They would get a shock if I answered them honestly…

So what have you been up to…

Oh burying my Dad and then carrying on at work like nothing’s happened, you know the usual.

So what’s new…

“Oh you know, apart from my world turning inside out and upside down, not very much, you?

Any holidays planned…

“Well no actually, we’ve had to sell our beautiful holiday house because my Dad died and we are all really sad about it”

I just think I would leave them feeling really guilty and lost of words and I’d end up with a pretty awkward haircut and would feel awful for ruining their day.

I have just made stuff up before now, said I’m going to the zoo and made up a little family I could take, that was years ago, way before my Dad died. I’ve never like the public personal salon questions.

I know they don’t mean it. Sometimes I wish I could ask for silence but that would be awkward too!

I braved it yesterday. 

Luckily the guy loved himself so much that he just wanted to talk about him. 

Finally.

 I can deal with that. So I’ll be using him again, even if it’s just for the one sided conversation! 

Do any of you guys find salon question time difficult to face? How do you cope with it?

Xx

Seven months

It has been seven months.

I think about him more and more these days.

I have come to realise that he is not coming back to us. 

This breaks my heart.

I have been in complete denial, to the point that earlier in the week I saw a Facebook post about their Dad’s passing and I genuinely thought “oh no, it must feel so awful to loose your Dad”. 

Silly me.

I know it is awful.

It’s just not the stab wound I was anticipating…. not for me anyway, more of a long term injury. Gradually the pain is seeping in and will not heal.

I genuinely think about him everyday. 

Oh the things I would tell him if I could, so much is happening. 

Today I feel sad. I haven’t had a sad day in months. I’ve been far too busy to be sad. It’s strange and doesn’t make sense, I know. But it is as I feel it.

I hope you have a productive Saturday 
Xx

Flutterings.

I did not write anything on here over the holiday period. I wanted to just live it, you know, without the reflection all of the time. I felt flutters of all sorts throughout the entire holiday and didn’t want to cement my flutterings on here, if that’s all they were. I do want to mark it though. Both days are very big firsts, and both different. I want to remember how I felt in the moment. I also want to share my feelings honestly, hoping they might help others. Below are writings from both days. As they were, as I wrote them, as I felt at that exact moment. Flutterings.

Fluttering one- written 26th December 2016:

And that’s a wrap. Christmas has been wonderful this year, it felt as full as our tummies. I was really hoping it wouldn’t feel broken and like pieces were missing. Obviously there was a lump in my throat most of the day, but we made it. We did it. If we can do Christmas we can do anything. Cheers to everyone, especially you Dad 💕

Fluttering two- written 1st January 2017:

That was so hard. The end of 2016. The year my Dad existed is done. Yesterday I could say ‘this year’, now I have to say ‘last year’, and soon it’ll be ‘a while a go’. I couldn’t see midnight. It was far too awful. I went to bed and was soothed to sleep after many many tears. I don’t want this year to finish. I don’t want my Dad to get further and further away from us.