Words for the Journey

Last year for Easter or Mother's Day (honestly, not sure which... but leaning towards Easter), my mom gave me a Hydrangea.

 

The Merriam-Webster Dictionary defines “Envy” as “The feeling of wanting to have what someone else has.” Yeah, that just about nails it. It’s one of the “Deadly Seven Sins.” It’s a lot like jealously, with the added element of desire. The strong desire to have what they have.

For my dear mum ,who passed 10 years ago , though it feels like yesterday under a sky ,I see your face in a cloud,wanting to shout your name out loud,where are you, why did you leave me?,knowing inside I had to set you free,Your pain became my pain at the end,you were my hero but most of all my best friend,

I came upon a pictureHiding on your pageAll I did was look And  it popped out plain as day.  The image that it capturedOf you so free and gay. It reminded me of how you wereEmbracing every day. You so  embodied joy. Had a such a zest for life. 

I feel blessed at times Throughout the pain and tears. I feel blessed at timesFor the love and prayers.  I felt blessed on his birthdayAll the Love that was sentI felt blessed with the global wishes On the blessed event.  I feel blessed by the cloudsthat hover above

   Its been three years nowSince God called you homeYet everydau we still look for youWe cant believe you're really gone

When talking with children about difficult topics such as death, it is much easier to "sugar coat" the truth than it is to be honest. We fear that children "can't handle" the truth, or that they will have a more difficult time with the truth than they would with a more watered down version. We want to protect children from the pain that we experience.

Six months has passed. I can hardly believe.I would have figured, if it wasn't meI should be smiling  And Laughing  and be Over this plight.  What a fool I would be,until it happened to me.Time doesn't make it easier, As the clock ticks on by.  

The roller coaster of grief over the loss of a child. The grief of the unexpected loss of a child is so changeable. One hour you could feel nothing and the next hour or hours or days or weeks (yes keep going) you can feel so lonesome. The guilt that you could do nothing to prevent this enormous loss is always there is varying degrees. The pain of the aloneness is overwhelming.

Another rotten morning. Headache, nausea and all the other effects of too much alcohol. Climbing onto my scooter for yet another drive to work, another day of hazy thoughts and dying for a drink, and then the ride home.

Recently while doing some research, I came across the term “Complicated Grief.”  Of course this prompted me to wonder whether I suffered from “complicated grief,” after all it’s been almost five years since Aly, our teenage daughter died, and many days I still certainly suffer profound grief.  But what is “complicated grief”