Summer

Well, today is like my mood. It’s raining.

One of our dogs experienced an unexpected stomach upset in the middle of the pavement while out walking, when I had no bags on me this afternoon. I was strolling with one of my daughters. I was beyond mortified and could do nothing, as it was not even pick-up-able - you get my drift. So, I am so, so sorry to the person, who lives right by where this happened. Thankfully, it’s July, so obviously it’s raining! Good old British summer!

Things like this seem to occur when you are hoping for one shred of sunlight in the heartache on a difficult day, but it’s not possible today, because we are in England and it is pelting down with rain.

Today, for me, marks the day we had to tell Ben, two years ago, that the crappy cancer was back. His words were understandably and heart-breakingly fiery; and filled with anger.

That’s how I feel right now.

I’m so angry and I cannot stand feeling all this fury.

Last weekend, we reached one hundred weeks without Ben. Seems impossible; unreal, but it’s very real indeed.

In the last week, our darling youngest has now reached her big brother’s age and in a matter of days, will overtake him.

This afternoon, I walked with my beautiful eldest, who put her headphones in for most of the walk. It’s so hard when you have teenagers experiencing loss while trying to grow up, fathom life out independently. Conversations need to be about fun things and I feel I let her down on that front today. I was way too boring!

The girls are growing up so fast and are full of creative talent, coupled with anxiety.

We are, each of us, dealing with life, with grief and probably a myriad of ideas, thoughts, anxieties and frustration in different ways. Life is complex … especially now.

Today, I feel the need to escape; the need to write and the need to be in some far off land, away from responsibility and Covid, so I can yell into the ether and find some peace. I want to feel the warm sand beneath my feet and feel the warm breeze on my skin as the sun brings light into my soul; and to be somewhere away from home. I want to hear my children laughing and carefree, away from worries and upset.

Everything feels difficult today and like I am swimming against the tide. I am always the hopeful optimist and dislike the discomfort of anger and frustration, the fear of losing control and yet, as a bereaved mum right now, I feel that control has long been lost and I am rudderless again, in the middle of the ocean somewhere, with no land in sight.

Best I keep swimming, then.

I was saying to James earlier that there are very few people I feel I can really say how I am honestly feeling to. I try not to cry or get upset or cross at home, because it’s important for the children to feel loved, supported and secure. The last thing they need is a parent feeling sad, although sometimes, I can’t help, but show some emotion. I am an emotional soul. I was told to feel my grief and allow it to be felt, in every sinew of my veins, so that I didn’t become hardened to life and cut off from existing in a whole way.

That said, there are days like these that come along … and right now, we’re heading into summer. Summer isn’t summer holidays and dashing after the children on a beach to us anymore, though I wish for that for our girls. Summer is when Ben got diagnosed, when he relapsed, when he was born and when he died.

That’s a lot for a family to try and manage each year. Ben loved birthdays and Christmas; in fact, all occasions when it meant a celebration of some kind, he was right there in the thick of it. The girls have their birthdays in the summer months, too and I hope they feel our love and know how precious they are.

My darling girls need the outdoors; they need nature and fun things to happen. They need friends coming round and to be away from the house, too. They need us to help them to build new and fun memories, all together and yet, we all seem to have hit a wall lately. I think there are many bereaved families that quite often feel the same. Summer needs to be about the girls, it needs to be about fun and freedom and living life to the full, knowing that somewhere their brother will be watching and cheering them on. I know he’d be frustrated if I felt that way and would be trying to interject with a joke to make me laugh or smile, at least. He was always good at that and I miss that humour. It’s usually me trying to lighten the mood - or James, to be fair. He has a great wit.

I hope that people can be kind and sensible this summer, if restrictions are lifting, even though cases are rising still. I think they are crazy lifting restrictions now, but I’m just a tiny person trying to protect my family and I worry for many of those families still going through cancer and other life-limiting illnesses or with loved ones with compromised immune systems. Don’t take risks, please. You might have a healthy and robust immune system, but that parent you just chatted to and coughed near, might be heading home to an elderly parent or supporting a child in a situation similar to the one we’ve been through and we are all oblivious until we aren’t. I hope people think first and act with compassion.

When you have been through the loss of a child, you can’t face the thought of losing anyone else in your brood, so you might forgive me for being a little over-protective. It comes with the territory, I’m afraid and I won’t apologise for it. I love my bears.

Grief just bleeds into your day; your hope, your dreams, your life and your relationships. It’s complex and lonely. Yet, sometimes, it can bring support and friendships you never thought could exist, but that you now know you could never live without.

I wish cancer had never happened to our family. I wish grief was not ours. I wish Ben was growing up with his sisters; and we were living our sweet, beautiful, life, blissfully unaware of this situation ever being a possibility.

But this is real and all I can hope now is that tomorrow is a gentler day; one for conversations and laughter, compassion and love.

Grief is hard and writing is cathartic. Even writing this all down in a blog post, has soothed my heart; and now I’ve remembered something fun that happened today - I wrote a lyric for a musical. When creativity strikes, it’s always best to grab it and somehow, a little distraction, a little indulgence into the world of the creative mind, breathes a little magic into the world. I hope that a little piece of magic reaches you, today, too.

Love to you all xxxxx

Summer in our lives before …