Skip to main content

An open letter to my friends

Dear Friend, 

First and foremost, thank you for being my friend. I am incredibly lucky to have such an amazing group of people who are of no relation to me who care so deeply about my wellbeing, not because it’s expected of them, but because you choose to love me. 

And it is out of that deep mutual respect we have for one another that I am reaching out with a letter to say, I am sorry. I am sorry I have been a shitty friend. I am sorry I haven’t been there for you like you have been for me when Xavier died. I am sorry I don’t call, I don’t text and I don’t visit. 

And as much as I would like to say I will do better now, I can’t make any promises. Please forgive me for my honesty. But because you are my friend, I know you understand I am just being genuine and giving you my no-bullshit, just-the-truth explanation. 

I am grieving.

Yup, I said it and even as I write it, it too sounds like a lame excuse for my less-than-perfect behaviour. Now almost 20 months after Xavier’s death and I am still playing the grief card. But dammit I can’t help it! 

I feel so alone now as I try to navigate this new life without my boy. The first year was about surviving. I was still numb and my heart didn’t register that forever meant forever. I still catch myself referring to him as if he is still here or look in the backseat expecting to see him show up one day. 

Now as we head into the second Christmas, second New Years… without him, it’s REAL. This year I am trying to do more than just survive. I am trying to live again. Doing both is extremely exhausting.

This has been a year of discovery. Discovering who the hell I am again, who I am not and who I was, because we are all different. I still haven’t figured that out yet nor have I found the strength to juggle, work, family, grief and a social life. I can do one really well, usually grief, add in a second and I do OK, but then a third and I am buried. 

Losing a child is a unique and profound grief that cannot be explained nor understood by anyone who isn’t a bereaved parent. Sometimes I feel guilty because I turn to others — new friends — who have lost a child like me so I can cope. It’s not that I don’t appreciate your support, but sometimes it’s necessary to be with other broken families to ease the pain. 


As we move into 2019, I ask for your forgiveness and continued patience. I am still a wreck and fear the still rocky days ahead… but knowing I have you all, makes every day a little less scary. 


Thank you for being there, 

Love you. 


Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The aftermath is MESSY

We are on the road to recovery!  Physically, Xavier is improving daily with his regular physio and pure determination only a child possesses. He is learning to walk again and use his left side, all while building back the muscle he lost.  He has at least another month of treatment left, but we are so fortunate we can manage it at home and at a dose that causes fewer side effects than he faced last month.  Xavier is determined and I admire that in children. The lack of self-pity in kids we have seen  on his cancer ward are so inspiring. Instead they use that energy to heal, and set goals for recovery.   Still there are residual symptoms that are concerning. He is choking on liquids more frequently, suffering from reflux and is unable to move his toes on his left foot. Seems minor but as he tries to walk now his toes curl under his foot and trip him. Who knew how important straightening your toes are!  But the lingering side effect of treatment ...
2 comments
Read more
Ever since I learned how to write, I have been writing. I am not a professional, nor do I pretend to be. I am not an English major or a published author. I wrote the news for years (almost 10 if you count my years at my college newspaper). But the benefit of writing for me is not for money; it's for pleasure. Writing makes me feel good. Since I was 10 years old I kept a diary. I wrote down my thoughts, my daily activities and everything in between. It was my stress relief - how I figured shit out. I can trace every low point in my life to a time when I stopped writing for pleasure. Pen to a paper, fingers to a keyboard, I have to write. My sanity depends on it. So, here I go. I intend on writing about my life, about stories I have swirling around in my head. And maybe share some excerpts from my diaries as a child. If no one reads this, that's fine. It's not for anyone else but me. But if they do, that's ok too. If I can bring a tear, a laugh or a smile to someone e...
2 comments
Read more

Feeding the fire

Buried deep within my soul is a fire. It burns slowly; smouldering inside me day after day. I long for the day when this fire rages again. Like it used to before I smothered it with life. Before kids, before mortgages, bills, illnesses and medical interventions, there was something else on my mind. It was fuelled by almost everything around me and grew stronger with every use. This was something that took me through dark spiralling tunnels, across cobalt blue seas with purple monkeys swimming and up mossy green mountains that whispered cool breezes. It sparked all my  senses and tugged at my heart. It sent shivers down my spine and excitement in my belly. And sometimes it paid. My creativity was ignited by an imagination as unique as every snowflake that falls. The words came to me, the stories flowed and the imagery made sense. I created eloquent editorial and powerful prose. But somehow along the way I lost my creative spirit. I pushed it away. I pushed it down. I push...
1 comment
Read more