by Alison | Jul 5, 2014 | .
I sometimes sit and write and then scrunch it up and throw it in the bin, yes, I still write on paper ! Reason being is that I think the general public get tired of hearing about how sad I am or how difficult life is. Even though I say and write the words I still get told that time will heal, or that I must toughen up, or that it will get easier.
The truth is that it will never get easier, or that time will never heal me as I will carry this with me till I no longer breathe on this earth. But I am toughening up…
I attended a conference recently and one of the speakers spoke of losing her ability to speak when her son died. My initial thought was why did I not crumble, collapse, lose my speech, go to bed for months and just be a heap? Because that is not who I am. I get up each day and face what lies before me and have done this since my father died when I was 16 and my mother took to her bed.
So I think I toughened up in 1975.
Not knowing what the future holds is a blessing and so I forged ahead and collided with sadness again and again and again. Grandparents, mother, daughter and son.
But what joy and fun I have had in between and continue to have, and what incredible friends and family I have and have gained along the journey without which I would not be able to stay in this world.
When a fire sweeps though the land, everything is scorched and bleak. Months and years pass and the beauty slowly emerges and joins with the darkness showing its splendor. This is how I feel.
My darling boy showed me his darkness, his courage, love and his light. My darling daughter was magnificent in dealing with her suffering, pain, darkness, love and understanding. I owe so much to both of them for being my children and for teaching me so much and for sharing their love and journey with me.
It is because of them that I do get up everyday as they would expect this from me, to always be there for them and for those that I love. So I will celebrate each day and allow myself to cry, be sad, miss them and be miserable yet still smile, laugh as loudly as I can, drink a few and remember my wonderful children.
To Laila and Aidan – my love always
your mother
by Alison | Mar 16, 2014 | .
A colleague, who lost his toddler to a rare and painful illness, and I were sharing our stories and discussing how many parents lose a child/children to illness and how difficult it is to witness.
When Laila died I was crippled. Aidan was a beacon of light in my darkness and we became tightly bonded in our pain, grief and sadness. He was eleven at the time, young in years but old in spirit.
We moved forward, tightly bound together, and his beautiful soul guided me and gave me the strength to keep getting up each day. Having Aidan to care for spurred me on and kept me grounded and we cried, laughed and slowly moved onward.
Over time the tightness of our bond slowly unraveled, slackening, yet flexible, strongly connected and firmly joined. We found a rhythm and had fun together when we could and I watched my son mature and grow with unbounded pride.
When Aidan was 17 he talked to me about how Laila was not often on his mind much anymore and if this was okay with me. I remember smiling at him and explained to him that that was fine and normal. She was his sibling and his life was moving in different directions but that she would always be in his heart and I would carry that grief as her mother.
I thought losing Laila was the worst thing that could happen to me in my life but losing Aidan broke me. It left me not knowing who I was anymore. I could not find my fit in life. Losing both my children made me feel that I was no longer a mother, left me feeling very alone and not fitting into life as I did before, not sure what I was anymore and that I no longer had a role. I felt adrift with no anchor.
I did not want to move on, to feel joy; I just wanted to be in my pain and just be.
So hard to explain, so different losing a child but having another still with you, so inexplicable to comprehend that both my children had to die, so unfair having been a single mother, just so awful to lose my boy.
But I have always been supported by friends and family and as much as I wanted to collapse into a heap and disappear from life I could not. My heart adopted children needed me, my beautiful daughter in law needed support in her loss and my friends and family wanted me to stick around.
I’ve come to the realisation that a part of my life will not move forward, it’s stuck in the time of when my children were alive, and it’s also something I will never truly be able to deal with but will just have to live with it.
I try hard every day, not being able to verbalise this as it wears the people around me down so, I keep my pain close and I soldier on and try and see the positive in each day, to have a laugh, love and enjoy those around me.
Then out of nowhere a thought, a remark, a memory, a photo, a celebration will make me crumble and take me back to the beginning, the memories fresh and focused, my grief as stark as it was then.
Once again I will find some energy and dust myself off, get back on my feet and stand tall, take a big breath and look at the morning and greet the day.
To my two beautiful children,
To all the mothers who have lost their children, and to the fathers, I send you many blessings.
The mother
by Alison | Jan 9, 2014 | .
Today Laila Vaun would be turning 19.
A few days ago I was chatting to our 16 year old and we were laughing as I was telling her that as she walks her path there will be times when she remembers the words of her folks, she will silently acknowledge as the truth of life unfolds that we spoke many a true word.
Thankfully our youth shelters us from believing anything untoward in the future. We dream and aspire but refuse to take advice having to trip and fall ourselves before believing.
One of the pitfalls of youth is the selfishness and hurt that is bestowed on the parents as they find themselves and mature into adults. Some of us never do, others do it early and a few are late bloomers.
When I look back on my life I am grateful that I had no idea what lay before me. Turning 16 seemed a natural and obvious occurrence but little did I know that it would be a turning point in a life to follow of much tragedy, sorrow and pain.
Even as the highway of my life unfolded it never entered my realm of thinking that anything more could happen or that I could endure more.
Yet, I kept travelling those miles, at times my vehicle of life was fully laden, at other times empty and parked at the kerbside, sometimes just idling or switched off, or taking off again back on the road following its white line and path with an eye on the horizon.
I’m grateful to the mechanisms of life, that we accept and embrace the abundance and the hope of the day without pondering on what will be, so that when we are struck down it is a surprise and unexpected.
We bleed, we hurt and we bundle our pain up tight and store it in a corner of our heart and then pick ourselves up from where we left off.
Never the same, with a limp, a half smile and we try, we try so hard to make it all right for ourselves and those around us. I’ve lost, and lost again and keep losing but I gain much along the way.
I feel as though my life’s blood seeps slowly out of me, not fast enough to end my days but drip by drip, quietly puddling on the ‘other side’.
How lucky I am to be loved. To have friends and family. Their love and affection offsets the agony and puts a smile on my face, creates a cane for my limp and is a gift I never believed I would receive.
So bless you all, I am extremely grateful and words do not do it justice.
Happy birthday my sweet, sweet Laila
With love as ever from your brother who resides with you and your mother.
I look up and try to reach the sky and my children in the sun.
That same day I heard good ole Rod sing and these lyrics are how I feel about my kids – all of them – You’re in my heart, you’re in my soul… xxx
by Alison | Jan 5, 2014 | .
Driving to Brisbane I saw a sign that said ‘ life promises you a soft landing but not a safe passage .‘
It made me smile and sad simultaneously – the truth of that saying is reflected in my life.
Just as I relax and start to feel secure my life raft is struck by an almighty wave, it lurches wildly, is tossed around like a feather being blown on the wind, then gains speed as it begins its downward journey surfing the wave.
The question becomes, how far am I to fall this time …
Suddenly the wind changes and my raft rocks violently and bounces into the trough. Glancing up I can see clouds racing as does my pulse. The crests of the waves crash over me as I bob along clutching to the sides, knuckles white with desperation, praying for calm.
Suddenly it is eerily quiet and anxiety recedes. My buoyancy returns. Sunshine beams down on me and I can feel that warm glow spread through me and brighten my soul. My splintered heart is bathed in glorious light and all hurt is momentarily pushed aside.
Thank goodness for our human spirit, for the sun that shines and the moon that rises, for the friendships and caring and for our unconscious umbilical cord of hope.
May your pain be momentarily cast aside this Xmas while you are bathed in glorious light, in optimism and hope. Surround yourself with good, with positivity, with joy that binds us, to enable you to find the love and kindness that we seek in others.
Lay down your cross, your hurt and pain for today. Waken with the dawn and rejoice in the birth of a new day for we cannot change the course of the world but we can stand tall in our universe and reach for the stars.
Our absent friends and family reside in peace and harmony and my wish is the same for us left behind.
Love, peace, hope and laughter
X Alison
25/12/13
by Alison | Oct 21, 2013 | .
There are times when I feel like I live in some sort of ‘us and them’ experience – difficult to explain how I feel but let me try.
I was standing in line waiting to order a coffee and noticed that the lady in front of me had a tattoo at the base of her neck.
It was of a small pair of feet, similar to an imprint the soles of your feet leave in wet sand, plus the date of birth and death of her young son with an inscription… a son, a brother, you will never be forgotten.
We all look relatively normal but for those of us who grieve we are not yet, those around us want us to be, and in many ways expect us to be ourselves.
How can you ever be when you lose your child, how can you ever be the same?
I feel that I am a marked person. Outwardly I look normal but inwardly I battle to survive some days and others I do.
How easily those around us assume that we are over the hump, out of mourning, that we are back in the saddle and getting on with it.
Unfortunately we are marked for life, our life will forever be a daily challenge and the angst we feel will always be ours alone.
To be marked or not to be marked – that is my question.
Should we wear an armband, a wristband or a tattoo so that when we pass each other in the street we can stop and give comfort as there is a mutual understanding of the grief. There are too many sad, bereft people in this world who have no one to share their stories with and receive comfort.
I try so hard to hide my grief so that the people around me feel more comfortable. I breathe every second of every day and have no idea why. Why are we left standing over the pile of dirt with its marker and memories in our heart?
Memories, cards, emails, texts and clothes are all the physical parts that tie us to our sadness that keeps our pain anchored.
I miss being hugged by my children, I miss A’s texts, his love and concern for me.
It’s not replaceable
That’s what hurts
It leaves a hole
Too deep
Too dark
Empty
Jump in or stay on the edge?
It takes strength and stubbornness to stay in the light.
So, maybe a tattoo like a name can anchor you to life. Never to be forgotten, always a reminder of what is, what has been and what lives with you forever.
Today marks your passing A, it is a time for reflection and for me to share love with those still around me. I drift towards the written word as the verbal one will trip me up and be my undoing.
I cherish every memory, it sustains me yet saddens me but I soldier on.
I send love to all those who hurt, who have lost, who have suffered or who still suffer. May you find peace in the setting sun, in the rising moon, walking in the autumn leaves or in the chill of the early morn or just sipping a cuppa tea and listening to the daily sounds of life.
Take care and be kind to you.
Alison
My darling son Aidan Cale Needham who was born on the 25/06/86 and left us on the 20/10/10
My beautiful daughter Laila Vaun Rip who was born on the 09/01/95 and left us on the 31/12/97
My wonderful daughter, wife of Aidan, Aleisha, and to my adopted children, my thoughts and love to you.
by Alison | Sep 18, 2013 | .
I wear my sadness like a comfortable old shawl
There are days when it sits loosely draped over my shoulders, barely making contact. Other times it slips off and hangs low down my back, swinging quite freely.
At other times I pull it close and wrap it tightly around me. Feeling the familiarity, the closeness of my sadness as I hold it tightly pressed to me.
Days and nights roll into each other and the memories ebb and flow. Every moment in every day has a memory. Many of them hold a story for me and when I am busy they gently bump into me, hesitate and then tumble away. Other days they ram into me with a jolt, demanding a reflection and then there are times that as the memories appear they are quickly followed by a succession of them telling a story. It is these that cripple me and cause tears and are my undoing.
I hear you in my head, I mutter to you, talk to you in your photos, drive my car and reminisce with you, laugh at odd things that you might cause and just miss you.
October is looming and it will be ‘another year”. The passing years are unstoppable, constant, like waves on a beach, pounding the sand, caressing it, flowing gently at times, calm then strong and powerful, always changing but always flowing.
It is the letting go of the physical that is hard and what we miss soo much because the head and the emotion keeps going, and going and going.
The hug, the smile, the cheek, the humour, the laughter, the shouting, all the stuff we take for granted until it’s gone.
But… what I have left I keep close to me, wrapped tightly around me in a bright, coloured shawl of fragrances, memories and emotions.
x the mother.
Aidan & Laila
‘wish I could hold you one more time to ease the pain’
