Slipping Through My Fingers
This morning I heard my eldest singing the song by Abba, known from the film, Mamma Mia - ‘Slipping Through My Fingers.’
Time is passing by and as we are all missing Ben, so I notice the girls growing up. My eldest is so independent; creative, funny, amazing with animals, super intelligent and I know that she and her youngest sibling have both found the loss of their brother and then the Covid situation extremely difficult. Yet, I look at the pair of them and stand back in awe at their gentle tenacity; navigating a time in their lives that no child should go through and then this extraordinary global situation on top of bereavement. What’s really visible is the way they haven’t let the awfulness of these situations get the better of them. It’s not been easy and like so many, we struggle and the girls struggle, but they also shine with fine lights, just like their brother.
I mention them in gentle ways when it comes to my writing, out of the need to protect them. We share our story to help raise awareness of stem cell donation, but on a normal Thursday in February, we are a family of five trying to get on with life in our own, quiet, sometimes (hopefully) creative way.
Hubby was out today, which is very rare these days, but it was just me and the girls today and by some miracle, we all managed a walk with the woofers locally this afternoon, which was lovely. The girls walked ahead and we re-traced steps we walked together when Ben was with us. We wandered past the park area and I could hear the echoes of their laughter when they were all younger, giggling and fighting over who would sit on the tyre swing. In the end, they all did at the same time! I looked over at the roundabout and the slide and could still hear them telling each other to hold on, while they would take it in turns to push each other round until they felt dizzy, or would lose a shoe on the slide and laugh their heads off at the speed they’d fly down to the bottom.
My heart quietly ached, as I watched the girls walking ahead of me talking and giggling, more settled into their new relationship, closer now and still finding their feet with each other. Our eldest, nurturing and leading the conversation; youngest listening, questioning, giggling and at that age where teenager-hood isn’t far away now. I wandered behind them, imagining Ben, his arm through mine, chatting about the latest film trailers he’d be watching.
It all feels like it’s going too fast. Things are changing; eldest is trying a mainstream school and we are preparing ourselves for the wrench. I know there are so many parents who can’t wait for their children to be back in school, but for a home ed, cancer mum, who’s now bereaved, this is a time of reflection; hoping that she’s gleaned some independence in learning over the last few years, in spite of all that she’s been through. She’ll tell me she’s so happy she came out of school when she did, as it taught her so much about herself and helped her become more independent, ‘opinionated’ she jokes and well aware of her core values. She knows what’s important and feels comfortable in her own skin. I know she’s ready now for another step on her own path. She is definitely leading. I am so unbelievably proud of my children; all three of them and I hope they never lose who they are in this world. Something tells me they won’t, because they’ve learned so many important lessons away from the mainstream school environment; and I’m so grateful to have had that opportunity and been able to give that to the three of them and to have had that precious time all together. Now, I hope to be able to step back a little more and watch her fly.
Over the last few years, it has been a bumpy ride, full of ups and downs and then the most devastating situation that none of us ever expected. It broke us apart as much as it brought us together.
I had my hair styled today - and very lovely it is, too. Naturally wavy and gently diffused. I was most impressed and it was so relaxing to feel so pampered. Once youngest had run away a couple of times, she sat still and had hers detangled and I managed to cut her fringe, which was fabulous, seeing her beautiful little face!
Later this evening, eldest was putting my hair up and giving me instructions on how to look after it. Then she leaned forward and put her arms around my shoulders as I sat on my seat by my desk and for the first time in three years, I received a hug from my eldest daughter and got to hug her back. I didn’t want to let go; and the tears fell.
Bereavement brings complication to life; it jars, breaks, unsettles and puts distance between you and those you love. Then, in a moment, when you’re least expecting it, it holds you tight, brings you back together; and surrounds you in so much love.
I love my bears so much.
Eldest xxx