Some light appears – by Simone
Its been a little while since I have written. Not because I don’t think of you pretty much every moment of the day my darling child. Because I do.
I feel like I am slowly starting to make a little bit of progress in dealing with my grief. I was in such a dark place for so long, crawling along the seabed, unsure of how to possibly go on, how I would ever see any light. But now slowly, that very heavy feeling on my chest, the near suffocation, the constant darkness is starting to lift. Some days are better than others, and often, I am hit in the gut by my grief, when I least expect it, but on balance, the days are generally easier.
I am sure its a combination of a few things. Having finally got onto the right medication, lots of therapy, running and exercise, your first anniversary being behind us…and simply…time. And in a way its hard to admit that I am doing slightly better, because it feels like a betrayal of you. How can I possibly be doing any better? My darling daughter is no longer here, I will never see you again. But I also know rationally that me starting to feel more able to cope doesn’t mean that I miss you any less, that I am moving on or forgetting you, but rather that I am just learning to deal with your loss and grief a little better than I was able to before. And I know that this is important.
The door to your bedroom now stands open rather than closed (although I still can’t really go in, open the draws or look at your things), and we have taken a few special things in your room down to make our “memory wall” for you and your brother in our dressing room (picture below). I look at my 2 tattoos constantly and am so proud to have them. I am able to more easily talk about our loss of you and your brother when strangers ask, and am able to deal a little better with their inevitable discomfort.
This weekend I am going to spend some time with my very special friend, T, and her beautiful family. This in some way will be bitter sweet as last time I did this I had you with me. Do you remember that weekend my precious girl, when it was just you and me on a girls trip leaving your brother and dad at home? That was such a precious time for us and I think of that time so fondly. You were as good as gold, just such a delight. Oh my girl, I miss you so. The fact that you are gone is still so often so very very surreal. Below are some pictures taken of you at the lounge in the airport being so very very good, and then your brothers excitement at having you home.
I overheard a conversation that your brother had with 2 of his friends a little while ago. He was telling them that he had a sister, to which the one little child replied, “No you don’t Murray”. He then said that he had a brother who was still in Mommy’s tummy and everybody seemed quite happy with that. I so wanted to jump in and correct the situation, to say that our darling Murray had both a brother and a sister, looking down on him from heaven. But I didn’t…
Then in the car a few days later, he was asking me about having a sister, and I explained that he did have a sister, Bella, but that she was in heaven. He then corrected me by telling me that your name wasn’t Bella but Sissie, and that you were a sweet, tiny baby. That you were my darling girl.
Your garden is starting to look so beautiful now. The iceberg roses have started to blossom and the pansies are in abundance. The Bella Rosa’s have a million buds on them and in a week or so it is just going to be a sea of beautiful pink. I try and sit there as often as I can. Talk directly to you, take in the peace and quiet.
As I am about to finish writing this, I have tears streaming down my face. Because my baby girl, I would give so so much to just be able to hold you once more, to have one more day with you.
I love you, always and forever