Skip to main content

I miss you...


Xavier,
I miss everything about you. Some days have been easier but then there are days and weeks where it’s really hard again. It hits me again like I almost don’t believe it’s real, and I question is this really my life? It's a reality I am not willing to accept yet.

I want you in my life ...physically. I want to see my twins grow up together and not wonder at each milestone what you would have looked like or wanted or achieved... the list goes on. I hate pretending and I hate that people don’t understand. They don’t see how I miss you from the moment I wake up to the moment I fall asleep. Even though we have new routines now I still remember and yearn for our old ways. When I had two kids to get ready for school. When I had two kids to put to bed. Two lunches and two birthday presents. Until I don't and I go a day where I was so busy that I didn't think about you. And then the guilt... the fear that I may actually forget you in our day to day life.

I try to be positive and look at what we have done since you left ... But all that is nothing compared to the moments we would have had with you still here. They all would be replaced with memories you were a part of. I can only fight off the pain for so long before I become numb and then it hits like a hammer again.

I miss being your mom. I miss being your caregiver. I miss my life with you. I miss you.

You brought something special to our lives that only you could bring. And now that’s gone and all we are left with is a void. A place where all our what ifs and questions about who you would become are. Two years and I am still begging for you to come back. Imagining life with you more than without you. Some days I can’t help but resist the way it is. I don’t want to live without you. I don’t want to watch Mackenzie grow up without you. She needs you and we do too.
I am still haunted by so many horrible memories of our journey... the pain I couldn't stop, and your fear of never getting better.  Surgeries and hospital stays right down to your last days. I struggle with guilt and with the trauma of watching you suffer over and over again. And now it’s me that is suffering over and over again as I try to live this life without you. I know I told you I would be ok but some days I just can’t be. You mean too much to me. And while I will keep moving forward I will never be ok that I lost you. No-one can ever be ok that their child had to die.

This is the life of a bereaved parent.

Comments

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 ...
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...

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...