Blog 11 : Mia's Garden
I'm not a religious person, even less so these days, but I still feel that Easter is a major event. Apart from birthdays, Easter is the first big event of the year and it normally signifies the change in season. The weather tends to turn around Easter time, bringing brighter days, and with it a change in moods. Although there has been a slight change for the better in weather this weekend, unfortunately the same cannot be said for the mood in our house.
The one thing that does lighten the mood this weekend, and it's also one of the only places that I feel happy these days is visiting Mia's Garden.
Mia is buried in a beautiful little baby garden at our local cemetery. Away from the rest of the cemetery, it is a quiet, semi enclosed area where we can go and be with Mia. It's the only place that I feel close to Mia, maybe that's because sadly, it's the only way I know her. The main reason that we call it "Mia's Garden" and not the baby garden or anything else is because it really truly is hers. She was the first in there and with that bestows certain bragging rights, I can just see her in years to come bossing everyone around who comes to play in her garden. At the moment though, it's just Mia and her little friend Charlie, who came to play in Mia's garden just a week after Mia had played out the opening ceremony. 2012 wasn't about Danny Boyle and the Olympics, it was about Mia Rose and her beautiful garden.
Mia was given such a beautiful and dignified send off, laid to rest by her Grandad's & Uncles onto a soft bed of flower petals, at least she'll be comfy. And instead of throwing dirt, we got to throw more petals to Mia, somehow this made things so much more child friendly. It was a little thing that the council had done but made such a big difference.
I think this is the first blog where I mention the word happy, maybe this is a sign that I could be turning a corner, or is it just proof that I need to be doing something for or with Mia to be truly happy. I do have a son, Kyran, who makes me very happy but I'll talk about my responsibilities to him in a future blog.
I'm hoping that the change in season helps to lighten the mood. If not, I can always go to Mia's Garden, sit on the bench with my wife, Vikki and talk to Mia while her big brother rides around the grounds on his bike. For me, that's the most beautiful scene on Earth at the moment.
Sunday 31 March 2013
Wednesday 20 March 2013
Blog 10 : Just For You, Mia
Blog 10 : Just For You, Mia
Mia, I'm going to start off by saying sorry to you. It's my job, as your daddy to protect you, to keep you safe from all that's wrong with this world but I failed. I couldn't do the thing that's the first item on every dads to do list "protect your children". I hope you can forgive me for that Mia. I just want you to know that if there was anything I could have done to save you, absolutely anything, I would have done it. There is nothing I wouldn't have done to have you with us right now.
That's not the only thing that I couldn't do, there's an endless list of things that we will never get to do together. Not just us, but all of us, the whole family. You were the final link in the chain for me and your mum, you completed our perfect little family. You are always with us Mia, we try to include you in everything we do, and we always will, but you know that anyway, don't you? You've seen the little gifts that we bring you back from our days out, of course you have.
I'll never get to hold you, to feel your warmth, to feel you wriggling in my arms but that doesn't mean that I don't love you.
I'll never get to kiss you, to tickle your belly, to make you laugh but that doesn't mean that I don't love you.
I'll never get to bath you, to dress you, to play with your beautiful hair but that doesn't mean that I don't love you.
I'll never get to help you walk, help you to talk, help you to write, help you to grow but that doesn't mean that I don't love you.
I'll never see you go to school, see you develop into a teenager, or get to check out your first boyfriend, but that doesn't mean that I don't love you.
I'll never get to be there for you, to pick up the pieces when you got your heart broken, to give you a hug and tell you that everything will be ok but that doesn't mean that I don't love you.
I'll never get to give you away to the man of your dreams, and tell anybody who will listen that my little girl has grown up into a beautiful young woman, but that doesn't mean that I don't love you.
Basically Mia, there is nothing in this world that can stop me loving you. You are, and always will be my little princess. I am so proud of you for fighting the way you did, just to last overnight was a little miracle, but I know you were holding out for your mummy. You couldn't have left us without spending some time with her. The strength you shown in that short time was amazing, I only hope that I have got the same strength in me because that's the only way that I'll get through this.
We talk about you all the time Mia and we all miss you so much. You've seen your big brother waving to you in the sky, he even tells us that he loves you and misses you, we'll make sure that he never forgets you. I like to think of you as a star in the sky, Auntie Jenny & Uncle Adam even named a star for you, and that's what Kyran knows you as, the brightest star in the sky. You'll always be there, looking down us and I know you'll always look after us, it's a comforting feeling knowing that I have my own Guardian Angel here for me.
I've said this in a previous post Mia, but when we said goodbye to you, a part of me died, a part of me went with you, a part of my heart went with you, I'm not the same person that I was. When we do meet again, and I get the piece of my heart back, I've got something for you too. It's a big kiss for my baby girl and a nice tight cuddle from your daddy. Only then will we able to close this chapter, so really, I guess this is a story that never ends, and there is definitely no happy ending.
Until we meet again, I love you so much Mia Rose, my little princess.
Mia, I'm going to start off by saying sorry to you. It's my job, as your daddy to protect you, to keep you safe from all that's wrong with this world but I failed. I couldn't do the thing that's the first item on every dads to do list "protect your children". I hope you can forgive me for that Mia. I just want you to know that if there was anything I could have done to save you, absolutely anything, I would have done it. There is nothing I wouldn't have done to have you with us right now.
That's not the only thing that I couldn't do, there's an endless list of things that we will never get to do together. Not just us, but all of us, the whole family. You were the final link in the chain for me and your mum, you completed our perfect little family. You are always with us Mia, we try to include you in everything we do, and we always will, but you know that anyway, don't you? You've seen the little gifts that we bring you back from our days out, of course you have.
I'll never get to hold you, to feel your warmth, to feel you wriggling in my arms but that doesn't mean that I don't love you.
I'll never get to kiss you, to tickle your belly, to make you laugh but that doesn't mean that I don't love you.
I'll never get to bath you, to dress you, to play with your beautiful hair but that doesn't mean that I don't love you.
I'll never get to help you walk, help you to talk, help you to write, help you to grow but that doesn't mean that I don't love you.
I'll never see you go to school, see you develop into a teenager, or get to check out your first boyfriend, but that doesn't mean that I don't love you.
I'll never get to be there for you, to pick up the pieces when you got your heart broken, to give you a hug and tell you that everything will be ok but that doesn't mean that I don't love you.
I'll never get to give you away to the man of your dreams, and tell anybody who will listen that my little girl has grown up into a beautiful young woman, but that doesn't mean that I don't love you.
Basically Mia, there is nothing in this world that can stop me loving you. You are, and always will be my little princess. I am so proud of you for fighting the way you did, just to last overnight was a little miracle, but I know you were holding out for your mummy. You couldn't have left us without spending some time with her. The strength you shown in that short time was amazing, I only hope that I have got the same strength in me because that's the only way that I'll get through this.
We talk about you all the time Mia and we all miss you so much. You've seen your big brother waving to you in the sky, he even tells us that he loves you and misses you, we'll make sure that he never forgets you. I like to think of you as a star in the sky, Auntie Jenny & Uncle Adam even named a star for you, and that's what Kyran knows you as, the brightest star in the sky. You'll always be there, looking down us and I know you'll always look after us, it's a comforting feeling knowing that I have my own Guardian Angel here for me.
I've said this in a previous post Mia, but when we said goodbye to you, a part of me died, a part of me went with you, a part of my heart went with you, I'm not the same person that I was. When we do meet again, and I get the piece of my heart back, I've got something for you too. It's a big kiss for my baby girl and a nice tight cuddle from your daddy. Only then will we able to close this chapter, so really, I guess this is a story that never ends, and there is definitely no happy ending.
Until we meet again, I love you so much Mia Rose, my little princess.
Sunday 17 March 2013
Blog 9 : A Dad in Grief : Grieving the Future
Blog 9 : A Dad in Grief : Grieving the Future
As any parent or parent to be will know, the 9 months of pregnancy is spent preparing for the arrival of your new baby. The first 12 weeks are generally quite low key, you tend not to tell anybody unless you really have to as that first scan is the first big milestone. You sometimes pick up some bits and bobs after the 12 week scan but generally you wait until 20 weeks to really start preparing for the arrival of the new addition to the family. With both of our pregnancies, we have spent the second half of the pregnancy meticulously planning not only for the arrival, but for the whole life of that little person. Whether it be a good thing or not, my wife and I both display tendencies of OCD!
Bringing a baby into the world is a truly wondrous experience, after all, it is what we are put on this earth to do, to procreate. The second child is always more difficult to prepare for, the logistics need to be considered. How old is your first child, what time do they go to bed, nursery, school, there is so much to consider. That's why, with Mia, we had already mapped out so much of her early life for her. We didn't know we were having a girl, but deep down we both suspected we were, all the signs were there. The most significant of signs was when we ordered the pram. The pram comes as standard black and you add colour packs to give it the colour you want. We had always talked about if we had a girl we would want a plum coloured pram and when we ordered it, it was on offer. The stand out thing about the offer was that it came with the plum colour pack as it was the only one available at the time. "You can change it for another colour when baby arrives" the lady in the shop said. Obviously, it was great that we could, but really, we both knew that we wouldn't need to. We knew what kind of clothes she would be wearing and when, we had thought about how old she would be at her first Christmas and what toys we would get her. We'd even planned her Christmas outfit and where her presents were going to be on Christmas morning.
This is what sets the grief you feel after losing a baby aside from what I am going to call "normal" grief. It is part of evolution and the laws of the universe that as human beings, we are likely to lose our parents and grandparents at some time in our lives. The grief you feel after this is what I refer to above, normal grief. At times when you are finding things hard, you can think back to all those lovely memories you shared, you can look through the albums of photos that you have and simply reminisce. This is what is missing with baby loss. The photos that you have are very limited, but so very treasured, and the memories that you have are both the happiest and most devastating of your life, but are always there as the stark reminder of what you should have, and the life that you should be able to share together.
I think this is what makes baby loss so hard to deal with. Every day is filled with so many "what if's" and "if onlys" that it can often be hard to think of anything else. It can be the little day to day things that can upset you, the simple things like she'd be starting nursery today, she'd be starting to walk/talk now but it's the big events that really upset me. My wife had always dreamt of taking her little girl to dance classes and on girlie pamper days and we had planned the dream holiday to Florida in 2016 when our little boy, Kyran would be 6, and our new arrival, Mia would be 4, and old enough to appreciate the wonders of Walt Disney World. But the thing that upsets me more than anything else, and I often have trouble getting the thoughts out of my head, is thinking about what would be my little girls wedding day. I have been a groom, I've been a best man and had to make speeches for both, but I'll never get to complete my set of speeches, I'll never get to give that Father of the Bride speech. The whole subject of weddings now upsets me deeply, who'd have thought that when my wife was watching Home and Away that I'd be sat on the couch crying because Alf Stewart got to make his Father of the Bride speech? It's not just the speech that gets me, it's the whole thing, I'll never get to make that car journey with Mia on the way to her wedding, where I tell her how much I love her and how proud I am of her and I won't get to walk her down the aisle and give her beautiful hand to my future son in law.
So when you lose your baby, it's not only the baby that you lose, it's that babies future, it's all the things that you planned as a family. The grief you feel is not just for your immediate loss, but the endless list of 'firsts' that you will never get to experience. I think that's why baby loss is so hard to deal with, the grief never ends.
As any parent or parent to be will know, the 9 months of pregnancy is spent preparing for the arrival of your new baby. The first 12 weeks are generally quite low key, you tend not to tell anybody unless you really have to as that first scan is the first big milestone. You sometimes pick up some bits and bobs after the 12 week scan but generally you wait until 20 weeks to really start preparing for the arrival of the new addition to the family. With both of our pregnancies, we have spent the second half of the pregnancy meticulously planning not only for the arrival, but for the whole life of that little person. Whether it be a good thing or not, my wife and I both display tendencies of OCD!
Bringing a baby into the world is a truly wondrous experience, after all, it is what we are put on this earth to do, to procreate. The second child is always more difficult to prepare for, the logistics need to be considered. How old is your first child, what time do they go to bed, nursery, school, there is so much to consider. That's why, with Mia, we had already mapped out so much of her early life for her. We didn't know we were having a girl, but deep down we both suspected we were, all the signs were there. The most significant of signs was when we ordered the pram. The pram comes as standard black and you add colour packs to give it the colour you want. We had always talked about if we had a girl we would want a plum coloured pram and when we ordered it, it was on offer. The stand out thing about the offer was that it came with the plum colour pack as it was the only one available at the time. "You can change it for another colour when baby arrives" the lady in the shop said. Obviously, it was great that we could, but really, we both knew that we wouldn't need to. We knew what kind of clothes she would be wearing and when, we had thought about how old she would be at her first Christmas and what toys we would get her. We'd even planned her Christmas outfit and where her presents were going to be on Christmas morning.
This is what sets the grief you feel after losing a baby aside from what I am going to call "normal" grief. It is part of evolution and the laws of the universe that as human beings, we are likely to lose our parents and grandparents at some time in our lives. The grief you feel after this is what I refer to above, normal grief. At times when you are finding things hard, you can think back to all those lovely memories you shared, you can look through the albums of photos that you have and simply reminisce. This is what is missing with baby loss. The photos that you have are very limited, but so very treasured, and the memories that you have are both the happiest and most devastating of your life, but are always there as the stark reminder of what you should have, and the life that you should be able to share together.
I think this is what makes baby loss so hard to deal with. Every day is filled with so many "what if's" and "if onlys" that it can often be hard to think of anything else. It can be the little day to day things that can upset you, the simple things like she'd be starting nursery today, she'd be starting to walk/talk now but it's the big events that really upset me. My wife had always dreamt of taking her little girl to dance classes and on girlie pamper days and we had planned the dream holiday to Florida in 2016 when our little boy, Kyran would be 6, and our new arrival, Mia would be 4, and old enough to appreciate the wonders of Walt Disney World. But the thing that upsets me more than anything else, and I often have trouble getting the thoughts out of my head, is thinking about what would be my little girls wedding day. I have been a groom, I've been a best man and had to make speeches for both, but I'll never get to complete my set of speeches, I'll never get to give that Father of the Bride speech. The whole subject of weddings now upsets me deeply, who'd have thought that when my wife was watching Home and Away that I'd be sat on the couch crying because Alf Stewart got to make his Father of the Bride speech? It's not just the speech that gets me, it's the whole thing, I'll never get to make that car journey with Mia on the way to her wedding, where I tell her how much I love her and how proud I am of her and I won't get to walk her down the aisle and give her beautiful hand to my future son in law.
So when you lose your baby, it's not only the baby that you lose, it's that babies future, it's all the things that you planned as a family. The grief you feel is not just for your immediate loss, but the endless list of 'firsts' that you will never get to experience. I think that's why baby loss is so hard to deal with, the grief never ends.
Thursday 7 March 2013
Blog 8 : The Mask
Blog 8 : The Mask I Wear
When I returned home from the hospital the day after saying goodbye to Mia, I was surprised to see something at the side of my bed. It wasn't there when I left 2 days before and I wasn't completely sure what it was for. I left it where it was for a while, still unsure if I should use it or not.
I finally decided to use it when I went back to work, this was a month after we said goodbye to Mia. I put it over my head and there it was, it was a mask that had been left by my bed. Only you can't see it when its on.
It's not easy wearing the mask, it takes a lot of effort but it protects me from the outside world, I feel safe when I've got it on. I put it on when I leave the house and keep it on until I return back home, it's not safe to take it off anywhere else. The mask is making every effort to free itself from my head, but I can't let it go. Its keeping my feelings in check, the world isn't ready to hear my feelings face to face yet, and I don't think I'm ready to share them yet.
The mask does have a weakness though. It doesn't cover my eyes. If I drop my guard for a second at all and you manage to make eye contact, you'll see. You'll see the pain, deep in my eyes. You'll be able to see how deep it goes, deep into my core, you'll see that there's something missing inside me. You'll see that there's a piece of my heart that's gone, my precious little Mia took it with her. I don't begrudge her that, she needs a piece of her daddy with her. This explains the emptiness I feel, but it also means that I'll feel the emptiness forever. The emptiness will only disappear when we meet again.
Until that day Mia, look after that piece of my heart, because I do want it back. But I know when I get it back, I get you back. So just remember this princess, your daddy loves you very much and is so proud of you so until we meet again, look down on us all and keep us all safe.
When I returned home from the hospital the day after saying goodbye to Mia, I was surprised to see something at the side of my bed. It wasn't there when I left 2 days before and I wasn't completely sure what it was for. I left it where it was for a while, still unsure if I should use it or not.
I finally decided to use it when I went back to work, this was a month after we said goodbye to Mia. I put it over my head and there it was, it was a mask that had been left by my bed. Only you can't see it when its on.
It's not easy wearing the mask, it takes a lot of effort but it protects me from the outside world, I feel safe when I've got it on. I put it on when I leave the house and keep it on until I return back home, it's not safe to take it off anywhere else. The mask is making every effort to free itself from my head, but I can't let it go. Its keeping my feelings in check, the world isn't ready to hear my feelings face to face yet, and I don't think I'm ready to share them yet.
The mask does have a weakness though. It doesn't cover my eyes. If I drop my guard for a second at all and you manage to make eye contact, you'll see. You'll see the pain, deep in my eyes. You'll be able to see how deep it goes, deep into my core, you'll see that there's something missing inside me. You'll see that there's a piece of my heart that's gone, my precious little Mia took it with her. I don't begrudge her that, she needs a piece of her daddy with her. This explains the emptiness I feel, but it also means that I'll feel the emptiness forever. The emptiness will only disappear when we meet again.
Until that day Mia, look after that piece of my heart, because I do want it back. But I know when I get it back, I get you back. So just remember this princess, your daddy loves you very much and is so proud of you so until we meet again, look down on us all and keep us all safe.
Wednesday 6 March 2013
Blog 7 : Crying Yourself to Sleep
This is a short post about an experience I had last night. I was watching the final episode of Ricky Gervais new series, Derek, in bed. For those of you who watch Derek, I'm sure you will agree that it can be quite emotional at times. The underlying message of Derek to me is human kindness, a quality that as a society I think we are distinctly lacking in. Last nights episode took this to a new level.
Ultimately, it is not Derek's kindness that affected me last night, although it was already tugging at my much weakened heart strings long before the killer blow. I was lying in bed, head phones in, iPad on my knee when I felt the first tear roll down my cheek. This came as no shock to me as I had been filling up for probably 10 minutes before that, but as I heard the familiar organ introduction to Fix You start to play, I lost control. As the song so beautifully states "and the tears come streaming down your face, when you lose something you can't replace", I felt like I'd hit in the chest with a sledge hammer. The tears were uncontrollably streaming down my face, as all I could think about was what I couldn't replace, my little Angel in Heaven, Mia Rose.
Now if I've cried to this song once, I've cried to it a hundred times but last night I wasn't prepared for it lasting over an hour. I ended up looking through Mia's pictures, desperately trying to stifle my sobs and sniffs so as not to wake my wife who was asleep next to me. I eventually managed to calm myself down and I drifted off to sleep but last night was a vivid reminder that the pain doesn't go away, it's always there, under the surface just waiting for that moment of weakness where it can totally engulf your whole body and mind.
Ultimately, it is not Derek's kindness that affected me last night, although it was already tugging at my much weakened heart strings long before the killer blow. I was lying in bed, head phones in, iPad on my knee when I felt the first tear roll down my cheek. This came as no shock to me as I had been filling up for probably 10 minutes before that, but as I heard the familiar organ introduction to Fix You start to play, I lost control. As the song so beautifully states "and the tears come streaming down your face, when you lose something you can't replace", I felt like I'd hit in the chest with a sledge hammer. The tears were uncontrollably streaming down my face, as all I could think about was what I couldn't replace, my little Angel in Heaven, Mia Rose.
Now if I've cried to this song once, I've cried to it a hundred times but last night I wasn't prepared for it lasting over an hour. I ended up looking through Mia's pictures, desperately trying to stifle my sobs and sniffs so as not to wake my wife who was asleep next to me. I eventually managed to calm myself down and I drifted off to sleep but last night was a vivid reminder that the pain doesn't go away, it's always there, under the surface just waiting for that moment of weakness where it can totally engulf your whole body and mind.
Monday 4 March 2013
Blog 6 : 9 Months
Blog
6 : 9 Months
It
is 9 months now since my princess was born. I can't work out whether the time
has passed quickly or not at the moment. On one hand, the time seems to have
dragged like you wouldn't believe, the differing emotions that I feel from day
to day making the days seem never ending and sometimes it feels like time is
standing still. While, on the other hand it feels like it happened only
yesterday. I can still relive the time Mia was with us down to the smallest
detail and I'll often find myself drifting away into the most vivid of
daydreams where I genuinely believe I'm living the whole thing again. One thing
I do know is that 9 months is the time that my amazing wife carried Mia for and
I guess the significance of that time frame is why I'm finding today so
difficult.
9
months is a long time. It's a time that expecting parents use to prepare for
the arrival of a new baby. It's a time during which you never comprehend that
at the end of it you won't actually get to take your baby home with you. It's a
time in which you effectively plan your babies life although I'll be talking
about that in a future blog called 'Grieving the Future'.
I
think today helps me to comprehend the extra grief and heartache that my wife
feels as I can relate the 9 months of pain that I've lived through to the 9
months of kicks, wriggles and physical and emotional bonds that were built
during pregnancy. I think my wife is a truly amazing woman, the strength she
has shown throughout this has been unbelievable. I know how hard it is for her
to even get out of bed in the morning, never mind being an absolutely
incredible mummy to Kyran & Mia and the perfect wife to me. But every day,
she does it.
Today
has been hard, tomorrow will be even harder, but as long as I know that I've
got my beautiful wife Vikki and my adorable son Kyran with me, all with our
Angel Mia looking down on us, we'll be ok. I have no idea how long it will
take, and it's not something that I can walk away from but this is the hand
that we've been dealt, and one way or another we'll get through it.
Sunday 3 March 2013
Blog 5 : A Dad in Grief : Saying Goodbye
Blog
5 : A Dad in Grief : Saying Goodbye
I
have tried many times to describe how I felt the weeks and months after saying
goodbye to Mia but the only one that has ever fitted is this. It was as if I
was trapped inside a bubble, I was stumbling around at 10mph yet the world
outside my bubble was travelling at 70mph. I could see the outside world
getting on with their lives as if nothing had happened, but of course they
were, and they had every right to, their lives hadn't been shattered into a
million pieces the way mine had. The sounds of everyday life passed me by too,
it was if I was listening to the world from underwater, like when you go to the
swimming pool and you hear the muffled voices and laughs when your head dips
below the surface. That's what life was like from inside my bubble. I felt as
though the whole world was talking about me, like they were all staring at me.
When I saw the groups of women talking in the coffee shops, the shoppers in the
supermarkets, I felt as though I was their one and only topic of conversation.
I know I wasn't, but that's the way it feels, like all eyes are on you.
The
dining room table soon resembled the window display of a high class florist,
floral gifts arriving a few times a day and the postman certainly earned his
wages, handfuls of sympathy cards arriving each day. This in itself is so so
wrong, they should have been "It's a Girl" cards, all happy and pink,
instead we we were faced with hoards of sympathy cards, the majority of which
are not meant for beautiful baby girls.
The
funeral had to be arranged but I simply couldn't bear to make the call. I
couldn't admit that I had to arrange a funeral for my baby girl. A family
member made the call for us and the funeral director visited us later that
week. So now we had to try and plan a fitting tribute for our beautiful little
baby girl. We set about arranging the perfect send off for our princess, after
all, it was the only thing we could now do for her.
The
day that we had been dreading was here, it was the day of Mia's funeral. Little
Miss Sunshine had worked her magic again, here was a sunny day sandwiched
between horrible rainy days. Guests started to arrive at the house mid morning,
Mia was already at the house. Mummy and Daddy had spent some time alone with
her before family and friends arrived. Her small white coffin was near the
table displaying all the flowers that had been delivered.
We
had decided that Mia's funeral was to be a colourful affair and we were quite
overwhelmed as we approached the cemetery chapel. The amount of people that had
gathered there, all looking very colourful touched us deeply. We will be
forever grateful to everyone that supported us that day, it showed us that Mia
was loved. She managed to touch many people in those few hours she was fighting
with us. For someone so small and vulnerable, she had an amazing power.
It's
a dads job to protect his little girl, I never got to do that for Mia, she had
the angels to protect her. I can accept that, but there were certain things
that I had to do for my princess, I wanted to make her proud of her daddy. It
was me that was to carry her coffin, that was nobody else's job but mine and I
had prepared a reading on behalf of my wife and I that I would read at the
service. Writing those words was so hard, and I think I cried the whole time I
was writing them, but I seen this as one of the roles of the job I introduced
in blog 3, the Dad in Grief. I read them without a tear at the service, how I
did this I will never know, I can only imagine that Mia wanted her daddy to be
strong, and I know I certainly didn't want to let my princess down. The same
can be said for carrying my Angel into the service, how my legs carried me
safely I don't know, they felt like jelly the whole time. Even now, if I have
an important meeting in work, a presentation or I just feel I need some of
Mia's strength with me, I wear the tie that I wore that day. I call it my Mia
tie.
There
was a strange atmosphere the evening of the funeral, I seemed to have been
released from my bubble for a few hours. It was as though a huge weight had
been lifted from my shoulders, I could see clearly again, I could hear things
properly, I seemed to be travelling at the same pace as everybody else again. I
went to bed with my head the clearest it had been for 2 weeks, maybe things
change after the funeral? I woke the next morning, I'd come flying back down to
earth at an incredible pace, the weight that was lifted the night before was
back, but twice as heavy, I was back under water, I had reverted back into slow
motion. I was back in my bubble, trapped, and there was nothing I could do
about it. The only question is, for how long?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)