Tuesday 8 December 2015

Tis The Season To Be Jolly Grieving

So here we are.... December.  The question that keeps entering my mind is "how is it possible to survive a year without my child?".  It obviously is possible because we've nearly done it - another three weeks and Freddie hasn't been with us for a whole year.  A first birthday without presents or a party, without kisses and cuddles and wows at his latest achievements.  A visit to his grave and a look at his beautiful face in our few photos.  The little face which never grew big enough to smile and laugh.

I can't even sum up this year, in part because it isn't over - because I have his first Christmas without him coming up.  And because I know that hearing a joyeous rendition of Auld Lang Syne will be like my life ended all over again.  How on earth I will live the rest of my life having to endure the memory of life leaving his body as people began to sing that.. well I don't know.. we survive.   The one thing I have come to accept this year is that I AM brave.  I have picked myself up and endevoured to give Sam and Tilda the best I've got.  For Freddie.  For them.  For Simon.   Sometimes I wonder how I do it,  I wonder if I'm fake, or dysfunctional because I don't wail into a pillow every day.  I wonder how I manage to keep going when people ask me how the baby is or when people who I expected more from miss Freddie out of the equation.  I wonder how I stay sane when people look at my bump and ask me lots of questions that no longer seem safe, relevent or polite.  They are presumptious, naive but at worst well meaning.   When are you due?  How many children do you have? (me: "four" them: "wow you're brave, bet that's a handful") or when people know what happened to Freddie and tell me that things will be fine this time - amazing how psychic people become when they don't know what else to say...

But back to Christmas and New Year;  I am driven by the need for my children to know their brother and remember him, but to also never feel that his death has disadvantaged them.  I don't want them to be burdeoned by an eternally grieving mother; to be sat in therapy in ten years time saying how their mother was essentially emotionally void and vacant post their baby brother's death.   I want them to be able to speak without fear or shame but with conviction that life goes on and they have been happy and nutured and loved despite this tragedy.  So this Christmas and New Year, as much as I want to run and hide is going to be met face on.  The tree is up and Freddie's bauble and angel sit on it.  I grieve terribly for the boy who didn't get my promise of a lifetime together and didn't get to be so completely loved and doted on.   I will cry often and sometimes Tilda and Sam may ask what's wrong.... but really they know... and that's ok.  It's ok to miss him, all together.  It's ok to acknowledge the insanity of him not being with us for a whole year, it's ok for us to collectively mourn the empty space as we open our presents on Christmas morning.  But it is doubly ok for us to carry on loving and laughing during this time, in fact more so.  Freddie existed because of our bond, he was wanted by us all, and our strength together during this difficult season will keep his memory safe and warm.

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