Thursday 18 June 2009

Days when it doesn't matter

My son just turned seven. He's an amazing child. One day, about a year after his sister died, he and I were walking down the street together. Suddenly he said to me, 'Mummy, can I say something to you?' I said, 'Yes, of course. You can say anything to me.' He said, 'Yes, but Mummy it's about Laura and I think maybe you won't like it.' I said, 'You can say whatever you want to say.' So this is what he said. 'You know, Mummy, some days it seems really, really sad about Laura but some day I just feel like it doesn't really matter at all.' I was amazed by his self awareness and honesty so I gave him a big hug and told him that what he said was absolutely right. And he is right. Absolutely spot on. I have days when Laura's death just seems huge and terrible and overwhelmingly sad. But there are also days - I admit it - when it really doesn't seem that big a deal. Days when I think, 'For goodness sake, a child is dying every eight seconds due to lack of clean drinking water in this world so just get over your little problem.......' And, in that moment, I can effortlessly bend my mind to that particularly geometry. But grief is - beyond all else - unpredicatable. I can never tell whether it will be 'an overwhelmingly sad' day or a 'perhaps it doesn't matter' day. And neither can I tell what apparently trivial incident might turn one kind of day into another ...... Often there isn't even an incident. Nothing happens but suddenly I'm in a state where the whole thing is so awful that my chest caves in and I'm gasping for breath.....

6 comments:

k@lakly said...

I feel the exact same way. Some days I wonder where the grief went and others I wonder if it will ever leave.

Happy Birthday 7 year old!

Honey said...

I love you, and happy birthday to the beautiful son. I would give you a hug if I could, beautifully written and touched my heart again xxx

niobe said...

Happy birthday to your son!

Now, 2 1/2 years and a baby after my loss, I sometimes search my heart for the grief I used to feel. And, usually, I can't find it. Which makes me a little sad because I thought that this kind of grief was supposed to stay with you forever.

Tash said...

There are days I stare at my blog and wonder if my baby dying was a big plot device writ large, it seems so out of body. And there are days I can't shake the replay, and I'm on the verge of tears gasping for air wondering if it's going to be like this until I simply can't breathe anymore.

Happy birthday to your son! My daughter, although she can't articulate it, I'm sure thinks similarly. She holds two very distinct narratives in her head: one where she's an only child, and one where she has a sister who died. They're both correct, and she can swing from one to the other within minutes, sometimes. I think that's a powerful thing that children can do: accept seemingly divergent truths and be perfectly comfortable doing so. We have a lot to learn from them.

Anonymous said...

I never leave comments but always read your blog. You always inspire me to appreciate every moment with Angelie and Hannah and not to whinge and worry about small things. You are the most beautiful writer. Catherine

Anonymous said...

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