My darling Belsie
It’s 5 months since you left us. How is that even possible???? The pain still feels so raw, so new, my mind still so consumed with thoughts of you. The last 5 months really have been a blur, a fuzzy mess of mostly non-recollection, of going through life on auto-pilot.
2 dear friends sent me this poem the other day independently and it is so very true.
I think it might help people understand me better? And it’s been an important thing for me to understand. Throughout my life I have been the kind of person who is very task oriented: do something to the best of my ability, hopefully succeed, tick the box, move on. I am all about dealing with “stuff”, going to therapy, reading, equipping myself, getting tools to help me work through things, not holding onto “baggage”. But this is different. There is no pushing through to the other side, completing the journey, moving on. Because this is a journey I am going to be walking for the rest of my life. And in doing so I will be a different person. I am nowhere near acceptance, I am still in the absorption stage. I am doing my best to endure this journey, but my word, more often than not it is so so hard!!! I see people look at me differently. Talk to me differently. And I also see how some people can’t understand why I am not back to my “normal” self, why I am not “moving on”. I have had my time and now I should be over it. Time heals and all that stuff…in this instance, it doesn’t. It never will Belsie, time will never make this hurt of losing you go away. Time helps you to learn how to live with your tragedy but it doesn’t heal. And as thrilled as I am to be pregnant with your little brother, it doesn’t make things “better”, it doesn’t make my hurt go away. It doesn’t at all. It doesn’t remove any of the sorrow I feel that you aren’t here.
It’s been a tough month so far on a few fronts. Your birthday, which was so so hard but also a wonderful celebration of you, and then a call from the police. James, Connie and I were required to re-do our statements about the afternoon of your death. I understand that it’s normal under the circumstances of an unnatural death but it doesn’t make it easier. I did remember reading on somebody else’s blog that they had had to do this and that’s it’s just part of what has to happen, so it was at the back of my mind, but I hoped somehow we may have escaped it. I remember giving a statement of sorts the afternoon you died because I remember the policeman being as nice as possible in doing it and me trying to hold it all together. But it seems that it wasn’t an official statement that was signed etc. So in order for them to complete the case paper work they required this from us. Even though I play that afternoon over in my head over and over again every single day, to have to give a formal statement again is really really tough. There do seem to be some bizarre rules in the SA system that really don’t aid in the grief process as nice as everybody tries to be. This is one of them. It really does take you straight back to that first day and week all over again. The other bizarre rule is the fact that the mother of the child has to be the person to go and identify their child’s body at the mortuary after their death (regardless of whether you were actually the person who handed your child over to the state mortuary or not) before an autopsy etc can be done. Another completely bizarre and traumatic rule for anyone already going through the biggest nightmare they will ever have to endure. So for anyone reading this who may have experienced a similar loss, prepare yourself for this. It’s a necessary evil unfortunately.
My Belsie, this is my favourite photo of you, but also my most difficult to look at. Its up on our family wall of photos so I see it multiple times a day. I took it 3 days before you died. You had just finished eating your lunch, which you loved and were smiling so beautifully at me. Its how I will always remember you my angel child.
With all my love to you, my angel child. I miss you incessantly.
Your mom xx