Sunday, May 27, 2012

In loving Memory


God saw him getting tired, a cure was not to be,
so He put his arms around him, and whispered,
” Come with me”

It is 8 years ago today, that God took my son back. Sometimes it feels like yesterday and sometimes it feels like two years.
Any one who has buried a child will know, that you will never get over it. It is said, that time heals everything. I disagree. Time heals nothing. Time is just time and the grief, sadness, anger, can be just as devastating 10 years after a child’s death, than the day after. Time will pass no matter how you feel and what you do.
You have to go through the process of grieving and bereavement, and there are no right or wrong way of grieving. Just your way.
Tell others how you feel, but if they themselves haven’t experienced a loss of a child, don’t expect them to fully understand.
The ultimate determinant in healing the horrendous wound when a child dies is love. As i said earlier time by itself heals nothing, but time plus love fosters healing. Accept that life is for the living. It takes effort to begin to live again and not dwell on the past.
But keep the memory alive. Look at pictures, remember special times and share that memory with friends and family.
I remember, that someone asked me, very soon after he died,” that now that he is dead, that must be a relief, because he was so sick. And now it is your turn to live”
I got really angry, thinking, how the f.... dare he say that?
But I controlled myself and answered, that I had been living all these years. It may not have been the life, I dreamt of, planned for, or hoped for, but I was still living. And as for the relief part, I had to say, that I would do it all again, just to have my son with me.
Secretly, a part of me was somewhat relieved, because it had been hard, heartbreaking and very often I had been close to breaking point, but that thought made me feel guilty, so I quickly thought of something else. A mother is not supposed to think like that...
I have learned so much from Martin. I learned how people are judged by what they look like or act like, more than what they have in their hearts and souls. We often don’t make the time and effort to find out, that we can learn from people who appear to be different.
Martins body may have been broken, but his soul, spirit and love was very much intact, probably more so than mine. He loved, because that was what he was and that is what he gave to the world. He wasn’t able to be influenced by outside sources.
He taught me that there is no greater force in life than love. I believe that it is where we all come from and to where we all return, when our time comes. It may sound like cliche, but love does conquer all. And the time we spend together in love, is never wasted.
He spend many hours in my arms. He even died in my arms.
I carried his coffin out of the church and after he had been cremated, I carried the urn to the grave and I put in in the ground myself. I couldn’t just let anyone else do it.
I carried him in life, I had to carry him in death.
Now my arms feel empty. But I carry him in my heart.
I will never get over his death and there is not a day, where I haven’t thought of him, missed him, cried over him, but I will get through it and come out on the other side.
I will carry on living my best life, just like he thought me.
To me that is the best way to honor his memory.

7 comments:

  1. Anette, this is absolutely beautiful. Thank you so much for sharing. You amaze me!

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  2. Thank You for sharing Anette. You really touched my heart and showed what life is all about - thank you!

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    1. Thank you so much for your kind words

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    2. YOU ARE PURE LOVE Anette, and you have moved me deeply sharing this! Thank you..

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  3. Sanne SkeffingtonMay 28, 2012 at 10:33 AM

    You are an amazing mother and human being Anette. Thank you for sharing this, and your beautiful book. I admire your strength - just like my mother in law who also cared for her special need son till the time he past on.

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  4. Thank you so much Sanne. Your kind words mean so much to me.

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