I write in my book less at the moment. It’s not that I don’t have anything to say, nor that my thoughts aren’t whirring all the time. It’s only that I am aware that sometimes we share those thoughts via our blog post and these days there is nothing much new to add.
I do actually count my blessings, I really do and I see so much positivity in life.
I read a blog post of a lady last night who’s son died in the same year as Oscar. Her thoughts were all very familiar to me. She wrote recently and said that when her son died her soul died too. That’s so true, although it’s not to say that I don’t get real happiness out of specific moments and time with Holly and Barney. She wrote of some of the challenges that she faces day to day. This month she talked about the difficulty of conversation. That in people’s desperation to say something positive they come out with sentences which make no sense in her world. Expressions about everything happening for a reason, counting her blessings, making of life what she can. She knew that all of the words came from the kindest of places but described herself as oversensitive because they hurt her so much. But you can’t help it. I do actually count my blessings, I really do and I see so much positivity in life. But it’s easy for someone to make those suggestions and much much harder for me to live by them. Even dropping Barney off at nursery this morning I thought to myself that I don’t ever remember kissing the other two quite as hard when I delivered them to childcare at the same age.
Grief is horrible and messy and never-ending and unpredictable.
Grief is horrible and messy and never-ending and unpredictable. From my point of view I think that it brings out the worst in me as well as the best. It’s all pervasive. It’s a filter on top of every conversation that I overhear, every news story that I read, every experience I have. It glues a very few special relationships together but fractures most apart. For a time at least. It’s a misunderstood state and one that is very personal too, which I guess is why it is so isolating. It’s contradictory nature means that it propels us to get things done in every dimension of our life in a very focused way and yet at the same time it can be totally debilitating. Grief, for me, is a yearning feeling inside that does not go away. A chatter in my ear that makes me constantly question how we are doing, how our kids will turn out, why Oscar died, what more we could have done to save him, why I didn’t fight more, or at all. What is going to happen to our future, what is the meaning of this life anyway, how can we live purposefully and without regret. The list goes on. Grief is complicated. And completely exhausting.