Dear Sproggy... (part 2)

This day two years ago we said our final farewell to you.

At this precise time, at 10.44 am, we were probably making our way to the church in the back of our family car; your little white coffin resting on our laps.

The church was packed out completely. I was and still am astounded at the amount of people that turned out to say good bye to you and I'd like to think we have done you proud.

It must have been hard for our singers who, like us, were so very upset but sang so beautifully for you. And Fr. Koenraad whom we know to be a man of eloquance anyway, seemed to know once more just what to say.

More people still were waiting at your final resting place which was so lovingly decorated with moss and flowers by family friends.

The turn out, the love and the compassion that was shown to us that day, made it so much easier to get through the day but saying good bye to you was the hardest thing I have had to do in my life.

And you know, just for the record, it is a reall really weird feeling looking at that headstone thinking that my name will appear on that some day too. I never thought I'd be looking at my own headstone in my own life time. We'll be having words when I get there, young man!

Lot's of love
Mammy

Dear Sproggy

Yesterday was the 25 January, your anniversary. Hard to believe it's already been two years since you moved upstairs. Harder still to think that you went in the first place. Despite the time that has passed, I still have trouble understanding that.

So, what are you supposed to do on a day like that? Spend it hiding under the duvet? Spend it crying or being bitter? Looking at pictures and reminiscing?

I am not sure what you are "supposed" to do but here is what we did anyway:

Because poor daddy is suffering from a nasty dose of the man flu, myself and little Skippy-do got up and let daddy sleep in a little in the morning. Your small brother polished off some breakfast and then we got dressed to go to the shopping centre to get some stuff done.
Just as we were about to leave, I noticed that your baby brother needed a last minute nappy change, so we took care of that. Boy oh boy was it a smelly one. Anti-biotic nappy, I am sure you remember them! Nearly passed out with the stink, so I did.
As I went: "Eeeeeeeeew!", your little bro thought mammy was starting a song and continued: "E-Ay, E-ay Ohhhh". Ha bloody ha! :p

Anyway, eventually we did make it down to the crescent and did a bit of a food shop (your brother is eating us out of house and home!). After that was packed away, we swapped the shopping trolley for the buggy and went off to Boots to get some mini pics printed for your balloons. Once that was done, Skippy and I headed to BB's for a coffee (for mammy) and two mini muffins (for Skippy).

Your brother did some more eating while I wrote little notes on the back of the mini pictures. Wait til you see them...I think we had the right idea.

Anyway, since that little brother of yours has the attention span of a nat, it soon was time to pack up and let him potter around the shopping centre for a while. He went in and out of shops, played with mirrors, tried bashing some expensive LCD TV's in Argos and then discovered: THE SHOE SHOP.

When passing Sketchers, he looked, exclaimed: "Shoes" and darted inside just like any self respecting woman would....I am guessing this might be Valentina's influence....you know, his moth from the creche. :p She loves shoes. And he had a great time looking around and trying to escape with a shoe or two. I am sure you would have pointed out to him that it only makes sense if you take the matcher as well! One shoe will hardly be of use to anyone...

Had to drag your man away from there eventually and we headed over to the rides in the Crescent. I popped your brother into the blue car and he sat there quite happily twisting the steering wheel.

Another little boy joined us and I think you would have been proud of Skippy and how he shared....mind you, the other little boy had one arm in a cast so could have potentially knocked Skippy out with a swing of his arm...so perhaps your ickle brother was erring on the side of caution there!
Anyhoo, the boys granddad was kind enough to stick money into the car to make it go (I know, you caught me....I kept telling you they were broken...). The two boys had a great time and mammy had a chat with the granddad and another man who came along. He asked if Skippy was my first and I told them about you being my first but that you went to heaven. He said it was very sad and he knew of someone else who lost a small baby to cot death (died sleeping on the mothers chest...how awful :/).

Well, shortly after that, daddy finally made an appearance and we went looking for food. We also found out the balloon people had forgotten about us and would not be able to make the balloon bouquet for us. Ya know, that was grand because it was bucketing rain anyway. So I said we take them on Sunday when we go out to visit your grave with loads of people who knew and loved you. It'd be nice if you could arrange for some nice weather then!

After lunch, we popped by the creche and brought them some muffins. They had a candle lit for you beside your picture. :) They miss you oodles, Sproggy.

Then, we drove out to Clare to visit granddad and granny in Corbally and to spend a bit of time there. We also went out to your grave to bring you some flowers. I hope you like them! :)

Ruth and Denis came over later that evening to mind that rascal of a brother of yours so mammy and daddy could go have a dinner in your memory. It was a yummy Indian after which we met Sean and Helen in the Dirty Duck to have a drinky....also in your memory of course.

So, you see, it was a busy day. Normal in many ways. We did things we had to do. We did things we wish we did not have to do. We remembered you. We got to speak of you. And we got to spend some nice time with your brother.

All in all not too bad.
Still wish we had you right here and I was listening to you playing with your baby brother right now as opposed to him playing by himself and tormenting the cat. :)

Miss ya heaps...
Lots of love,
Mammy

P.S. Look how people near and far are thinking of you.
Thank you Milka and Troy...Also always remembering your little one! xxx

To Do List

My to do list for today (and probably tomorrow):

Make it through the day.

Today two years ago, I set off to Germany after leaving a happy healthy toddler in the wonderful care of the people in his creche. Me and Pat dropped him off together that day.

Make it through the day.
Make it through the day.
Make it through the day.
Make it through the day.
Make it through the day.

The only agenda item for now but not one that is as easily executed as it is typed.
xxx

Here is something I noticed: There seem to be different ways in which people deal with the immediate weeks and months following their child's death.

There are some who will retreat into their beds, bury their heads in the sand, cry extensively and cease to cope with life and living for as long as they need to.

Then there are those who get busy almost as soon as the coffin has been lowered into the ground. Trusts, fund-raising, blogging, awareness-raising...you name it, they do it. Anything to keep the memory of their loved ones alive, to make themselves feel their death was not in vain...and to keep busy.

You will not be able to foresee which category you belong to. And ultimately, it does not matter. Each persons journey through grief is different. No way is the right or wrong way though some ways are perhaps a bit more harmful to oneself than others.

I know I definitely was one to feel she needed to be busy. I would have quite happily turned the house upside down and changed everything in a bid to keep myself occupied. Time was the enemy.

As Patrick was our up-until-then only child, I went from thinking there aren't enough hours in the day to not knowing what to do with all this time I had once again...literally over night.

I needed to be busy. Organising the months mind, his birthday announcements in the papers, getting paperwork for the SUDC research program together, blogging, setting up his memorial website and organising fund-raising.

I can see the same thing happening with other people who are newly into their loss. Little Caden Beggan's parents are doing a wonderful job of raising awareness and funds and keeping his memory alive. As are Reuben's parents (Reuben's retreat) or Millie's (Millie's Trust...raising awareness of the importance of first aid on children after their little girl choked to death on a piece of food in her creche....how many of us would be unsure what to do?!).

Perhaps it is the way in which our darlings went that made us feel helpless and out of control. We figure that while we were unable to safe them, while our hands were bound...this is something we can do. We can actively work on making others aware. Sparing others the heartache perhaps. Or just help them through their own journey.

All things considered, even though one could say this flurry of activity is partially escapism, I think it is one of the more positive ways to mourn your child.

But here is the thing:
Prepare yourself for not being able to keep going at that rate forever.
Eventually, you will slow down and bit by bit what you might have put off by keeping busy will catch up with you.

The enormous tasks you undertook just a few weeks into your grief and mastered seemingly without much hassle at all, may start to look absolutely impossible to tackle. Indeed, you might wonder how you even did it all in the first place.

And you might feel terribly guilty about that. You may not understand why you are suddenly unable to get your head around organising this years fund-raising thing or anniversary notice.  It may feel like you are letting them down.

For someone like me who is generally super organised, it is neigh impossible to understand why I am sometimes stuck to the couch, a mopey mess for days on end, unable to decide what to have for breakfast, let alone go about planning the next Stroll For Sproggy.


But...
That initial flurry of activity is good...if it helps you through it.
Slowing down and dealing with this big mess is good too. It will need to be done some time.
Not being able to keep going in the same manner for the rest of your life is ok also. You are not letting them down. Choose your battles...keep doing the stuff that feels important to you and that you can continue to manage as you will have to also manage all the other aspects of your life.
As someone pointed out too, be prepared that things which were helpful at the start, end up not helping anymore later. And it is ok to turn away from them, if it feels like the thing to do.



The greatest honour I think we can give our angels is to live our lives to the fullest while remembering them and keeping their memory alive. I am sure they would not want to see a mopey mess on the couch surrounded by empty tissue boxes and photographs...Every so often that is OK...just not too often.


Well...all of this is easier said than done of course. Now I shall go and try take a leaf out of my own book.....

Dear Grief, ... Yours, Confused

I had certain expectations from you, this grief thing. I somehow thought that the more time passes, the more you get used to your new lot.

You are supposed to get "better" with time, aren't you?

Instead, it increasingly feels that each passing year can be a reminder of "how long since".
Each mile stone a reminder that there is a Sproggy-shaped hole in our midst and that time is moving at the speed of sound, apparently.
Each innocent comment like someone saying how nice it will be for my husbands parents to have a second grandchild can seem like a slap in the face  (there is another one on the way alright, courtesy of the Swedish contingent. It is the third, however, but yes, it will be very nice indeed :)).

And so I get caught in this spiral of feeling sad, feeling guilty about feeling sad because it seems you are bringing the whole world down with you and ultimately feeling like a failure as a mother, wife, sister, daughter and friend because because you do not have the strength to pull yourself out of that spiral.

After all, the world keeps turning, moving on. So are the people in it. So shouldn't I? Maybe the world is just throwing one last look at me over its shoulder going: Ya coming? No? Still "there"? Grand so, suit yourself.

You see, world, as much as you and me want me to, I cannot just "move on", snap out of it and get better in a nice sort of linear manner. There are so many ups and downs and setbacks. You might helpfully pull me along some of the way so I get up and do the things that need to be done and live a little but I keep falling behind.

Don't you know I am not the same anymore?

I have to live with his absence, every day.
I have the memory of his dying with me, every day.
I have to think of our family and friends who miss him too...especially those who did not get to say good bye and those whom we probably owe a honeymoon (see, life, your timing truly stinks!).
I have to make sense of why I cannot seem to bring myself to travel anything farther than a car journey from home.(??!)

To you, he was probably just another little boy; a has-been by now; fading out of your memory. To me, he was my world.

Sometimes, all that is just much much harder to deal with than other times and you wonder how you are supposed to keep going without losing your sanity altogether.

Right now, I just want to pull the covers over my head, sleep, wake up and find all of this has gone away. Can I, please? I am sure it is the two year mark looming later on this month but seriously, when do you know it actually did get too much and at what point should one go looking for magic happy pills?  :/

Just not sure what is normal in this process anymore...You confuse me, grief.

Of course I do not want to look back at my life and see only you. I want to live, cherish every moment with the husband (who is a true saint for putting up with me), Eoghan (that smily, affectionate little dude, full of hugs and kisses for anyone who'll have him) and any other little ones we might be allowed to have and think happily back to the times we had with Patrick.

So maybe I can manage to pull myself out of this pool of sadness, self-pity and heartache before the world (or I) loses patience with me.

Suggestions welcome cos that pool has slippery walls and feels just that bit too comfy and familiar at times.