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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. 


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