It was scary, how quickly that first year went by. Reading back, I had a lot of worries about the passage of time and forgetting.
It is crazy how fast the years have gone by. We will soon be looking at a full decade here. 10 frigging years! How is that even possible?
So what is it like 7 years on from that post?
Well, I recently came across an article on on Facebook (Mitchell's Journey) in which a dad shared his thoughts on grieving and bereavement following the death of his son Mitchell. This below paragraph absolutely resonated with me.
"I’ve said this often: death is the easy part, it’s the aftermath that’s hardest. So, when you see someone who's lost someone – know that they’ll need your love, compassion, and empathy gently at the funeral and the months to come – but more profoundly in the lonely years that follow.
I’ll repeat the last part: they’ll need your love more profoundly in the lonely years that follow."
The lonely years that follow.
Everybody moves forward with their lives. Including oneself. Slowly, you learn to live with the trauma, the memories, the flashbacks, the triggers, the miss. You return to being a pretty well-functioning human - at least most of the time. Needs must and all of that. This process can be exhausting and lonely though.
As the years tick by, there are two dates in our calendar that become so, so important. Birthday and anniversary. People remembering those and telling you about it can literally be a life-line. A reassurance that he is not fading from memory but remembered no matter how many years have passed. I love hearing little stories people remember or how his name still comes up in conversation with some of my friends' children. It is lovely to know their parents are keeping Patrick alive in their lives, answering question and recounting memories. It is humbling to think that even though they are little themselves, Patrick means something to them - perhaps in a slightly abstract way but all the same.
Over the years, grief, ever-lurking on the sidelines, often strikes unexpectedly and manages to take your breath away all over again. Anytime, anywhere. Whenever you may find yourself believing you have become a seasoned pro at this grief-lark, it pounces; ready to teach you a lesson. But you keep fighting and living and loving.
The love for your child does not change because they died. It remains as strong as the first and last time you held them.
You will never stop grieving for them just as you will never stop loving them.
