It is exactly 11 weeks today, until Christmas. I was amazed to be told this. I wonder where this year has gone in fact, some days I have to remember what year we are in as these years seem to be flying past us.
I always love Christmas, most especially the lead up to Christmas Day. I have always tried to make our Christmas gathering for my immediate family, very special and so far the immediate family have loved each and every effort. Before K and A had partners there was just the five of us as B was with us then. As I sit and type this blog I am reminded of the first Christmas after he passed away.
We had to move house immediately after B died. It was a matter of a month or so because the house had been sold. That first Christmas was heart breaking for us as we were still reeling from all that had happened. I can look back now and say from personal experience that people expect grieving parents to get over it and get on with life. They do not want to know nor understand the pain parents are experiencing. Poor J was so sad at that time that it seemed impossible for him to enjoy any of the festivities but he marched on regardless. My sister made a thoughtless comment on that Christmas Day that after five months he should get "get over it" especially as B had not lived in this new house. I remember thinking that people simply have no idea, not even an incling. They have no idea of the depth and breath of such pain; the memories (regardless of new homes or moving house) and the love do not simply end with a funeral. Then only a few weeks later a caring friend sent me an email with the following......
The time of concern is over. No longer are we asked how we're doing. Never are the names of our children mentioned to us. A curtain descends. The moment has passed. Life's slip from frequent recall. There are exceptions: close and compassionate friends, sensitive and loving family. Still look. Still ask. Still listen. Thank God for them. For most, the drama is over. The spotlight is off. Applause is silent.
But for us the play will never end. The effects on us are timeless. What can be said, you ask? Please say "their names" to us. Love does not die. Their names are written on our lives. You may feel that they are dead. We feel that they are of the dead and still they live. They ghost-walk our souls, beckoning in future welcome. You say, "They were our children"; we say "They are". Please say "their names" to us and say "their names" again. It hurts to bury their memory in silence. What they were in flesh is no longer with us. What they are in spirit stays within us always. They were of our past but they are part of our now. They are our hope for the future. Please understand we cannot forget. We would not even if we could.
We know that you cannot know, yesterday we were like you. Understand that we dwell in both flesh and spirit. We do not ask you to walk this road. The ascent is steep and the burden heavy. We walk it not by choice. We would rather walk it with them in the flesh, looking not to spirit worlds beyond. We are what we have to be. What we have lost, you cannot feel. What we have gained you may not see. Please say " their names" for they are alive. We will meet them again, although in many ways we've never parted. Their spirits play light songs, appear in sunrises and sunsets. They are real and shadow, they were and they are.
Please say "their names" to us and say "their names" again.
They are our children and we love them as we always did.
More each day.
"PLEASE, SAY THEIR NAMES"
- Written by an unknown author posted for all grieving parents -
I always love Christmas, most especially the lead up to Christmas Day. I have always tried to make our Christmas gathering for my immediate family, very special and so far the immediate family have loved each and every effort. Before K and A had partners there was just the five of us as B was with us then. As I sit and type this blog I am reminded of the first Christmas after he passed away.
We had to move house immediately after B died. It was a matter of a month or so because the house had been sold. That first Christmas was heart breaking for us as we were still reeling from all that had happened. I can look back now and say from personal experience that people expect grieving parents to get over it and get on with life. They do not want to know nor understand the pain parents are experiencing. Poor J was so sad at that time that it seemed impossible for him to enjoy any of the festivities but he marched on regardless. My sister made a thoughtless comment on that Christmas Day that after five months he should get "get over it" especially as B had not lived in this new house. I remember thinking that people simply have no idea, not even an incling. They have no idea of the depth and breath of such pain; the memories (regardless of new homes or moving house) and the love do not simply end with a funeral. Then only a few weeks later a caring friend sent me an email with the following......The time of concern is over. No longer are we asked how we're doing. Never are the names of our children mentioned to us. A curtain descends. The moment has passed. Life's slip from frequent recall. There are exceptions: close and compassionate friends, sensitive and loving family. Still look. Still ask. Still listen. Thank God for them. For most, the drama is over. The spotlight is off. Applause is silent.
But for us the play will never end. The effects on us are timeless. What can be said, you ask? Please say "their names" to us. Love does not die. Their names are written on our lives. You may feel that they are dead. We feel that they are of the dead and still they live. They ghost-walk our souls, beckoning in future welcome. You say, "They were our children"; we say "They are". Please say "their names" to us and say "their names" again. It hurts to bury their memory in silence. What they were in flesh is no longer with us. What they are in spirit stays within us always. They were of our past but they are part of our now. They are our hope for the future. Please understand we cannot forget. We would not even if we could.
We know that you cannot know, yesterday we were like you. Understand that we dwell in both flesh and spirit. We do not ask you to walk this road. The ascent is steep and the burden heavy. We walk it not by choice. We would rather walk it with them in the flesh, looking not to spirit worlds beyond. We are what we have to be. What we have lost, you cannot feel. What we have gained you may not see. Please say " their names" for they are alive. We will meet them again, although in many ways we've never parted. Their spirits play light songs, appear in sunrises and sunsets. They are real and shadow, they were and they are.
Please say "their names" to us and say "their names" again.
They are our children and we love them as we always did.
More each day.
"PLEASE, SAY THEIR NAMES"
- Written by an unknown author posted for all grieving parents -
When I first began to blog I made a decision not to dwell on B's passing but now I really feel it is very theraputic and from emails and comments from fellow blog readers, I know that others appreciate reading the experiencs as many times it may help them so J and I decided to occassionally add a blog that will include our B.
Getting back to Christmas...each year we have a christmas bauble made with Ben's name on it and the year it was made, and we buy a huge pack of ferrora roche chocolates ( his favourates) to share at our special family gatering. When the extended family have a Christmas celebration on Christmas Day we have our special family gathering on Christmas Eve. I am looking forward to it this year. I wonder how I can make it extra special for the six of us. Yes, there are six of us these days and of course, young B will be here in spirit, his bauble on the tree, his chocolates ready to serve with coffee after dinner.
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