There's a picture on our lounge room wall. A big group shot of about 20 people. It was taken at Easter about 5 years ago. Two people in that photo are now dead. Another has turned their back on the group that once welcomed them. Another story for another day, perhaps.
One of those people is Sam. The other is a friend of my mother-in-law, who passed away before her time due to a freak accident. She was only 59.
We went to her funeral yesterday. It was nice I guess, as much as a funeral can be. A fitting tribute to a lovely lady.
I was very proud of Oliver, who made the decision to go along to the funeral despite his feelings about death. He handled himself very well and seemed to take it all in his stride, which is good I guess.
When things were good for us, I used to look at magazines like 'That's Life' and 'Take 5' and wonder how individuals, or families could be surrounded by so much tragedy. I thanked my (whoevers) that those horrible things weren't happening to me.
Because they do seem to happen in clusters, don't they? Not that I'm saying that my life is completely tragic or anything like that, but it does seem that bad things happen in groups, rather than on their own.
Or perhaps it's my perception? I know I shouldn't overlook all the good things that have happened in the last 18 months, but it does seem that our family's had its share of crappiness.
Well, they say that when you're at the bottom the only way is up, and I have to believe that because I'm that optimistic person. There are still issues looming that have many people worried. But I'm hoping we'll all get through those...
Showing posts with label death. Show all posts
Showing posts with label death. Show all posts
Monday, July 11, 2011
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Oli Update
A few things have been going on with Oliver lately. Some of which have been keeping me from you. (I know you don't mind if it's Oli!).
The Thin Fat Kid
One thing that surprised me recently was a letter I got from the school. They had been doing this program called 'SmartStart', where they check the kid's health and fitness levels. Oliver's 'report' at the end was not what I expected. According to them, he is pretty unfit, and overweight.
This kid is 7. He's not a skinny rake of a kid, but he's definitely not obese. He develops a little tummy every now and then, but tends to run it off pretty quick. And run he does. He spends a lot of time running, because he actually likes it. So it surprised me to see that he had low levels of fitness and was int eh 90th percentile for weight for his age (I'd be interested to see what the 50th percentile is!). Mind you, he's also in the 90th percentile for height. Anyone else see a pattern here??
I'm not going to get too riled up about it, but it did surprise me. So he's now doing this workshop thing once a week after school, where they talk to the kids about health and nutrition and do lots of fitness stuff. He actually enjoys that (because he loves running around), but he has to do weird stuff like wear a pedometer and record his food and exercise in a diary.
I'll repeat. The kid is 7!
Good god! he has a hard enough time getting his shit together homework-wise (reading etc), let alone filling in a diary every second day.
Don't get me wrong, I think the concept is probably a good one. And there are probably many kids out there that don't have weight-obsessed mothers who do lots of home-cooking (including school snacks), insist on vegies as much as possible, and do emphasise good health choices regularly. But Oliver's not lacking in knowledge about healthy lifestyles. Yes, he probably eats more junk than some kids, but I don't know any of those ones!
Plus Oliver actually likes exercise. He likes to run. He often opts to come on my walks or go bike riding with me. He spends a lot of time climbing or playing with his friends outside.
I don't know what my problem is with this program, and maybe there isn't one. But if they start telling my beautiful boy he's fat and unhealthy. WATCH OUT....De Castella or no De Castella (Robert De Castella is the - apparently major health nut - who started the program), they'll have me to answer for!
The Emotional Kid
Oli's also going through another clingy/emotional stage. He wants me around all the time, and is back to cuddling up to me on the couch and giving me lots of hugs. He keeps asking me to take him/pick him up from school and gets disappointed if I can't (which unfortunately is fairly regularly).
On Sunday night, I told Oli that Merlin (our 16.5 year old labrador/retriever) was probably going to die soon. He had been pretty sluggish over the preceeding few days, and a couple of times we have not expected him to last the night (mind you, it's been very cold). Bless him, he's so old and has lost most of his hearing and sight, has dementia of some kind (he often barks at nothing at all) and has absolutely no muscle tone, but he just keeps on going. We were glad he hung on for a while after Sam died, but even Anthony is ready for him to go. Poor old chap!
Anyway, back to Oliver. When I told him that, he didn't say much. Just went out and gave Merlin a pat. But after his shower he suddenly burst into tears. He had to go back out and pat Merlin again for a while, and then came back and cried and cried. He then started talking about how when Merlin died, he would know 'four people who have died'. He named Anthony's grandparents, and Sam of course. Poor kid. So much for him to think and worry about. So much death in his short life.
Well of course we talked about how we make every day count, and how we love the time we have with people, and how death is a part of life and all that stuff, but I could see he was pretty upset. And probably not so much about Merlin.
Merlin's still with us, but we know he'll go sometime soon. Hopefully Oliver will be OK with that.
The Thin Fat Kid
One thing that surprised me recently was a letter I got from the school. They had been doing this program called 'SmartStart', where they check the kid's health and fitness levels. Oliver's 'report' at the end was not what I expected. According to them, he is pretty unfit, and overweight.
This kid is 7. He's not a skinny rake of a kid, but he's definitely not obese. He develops a little tummy every now and then, but tends to run it off pretty quick. And run he does. He spends a lot of time running, because he actually likes it. So it surprised me to see that he had low levels of fitness and was int eh 90th percentile for weight for his age (I'd be interested to see what the 50th percentile is!). Mind you, he's also in the 90th percentile for height. Anyone else see a pattern here??
I'm not going to get too riled up about it, but it did surprise me. So he's now doing this workshop thing once a week after school, where they talk to the kids about health and nutrition and do lots of fitness stuff. He actually enjoys that (because he loves running around), but he has to do weird stuff like wear a pedometer and record his food and exercise in a diary.
I'll repeat. The kid is 7!
Good god! he has a hard enough time getting his shit together homework-wise (reading etc), let alone filling in a diary every second day.
Don't get me wrong, I think the concept is probably a good one. And there are probably many kids out there that don't have weight-obsessed mothers who do lots of home-cooking (including school snacks), insist on vegies as much as possible, and do emphasise good health choices regularly. But Oliver's not lacking in knowledge about healthy lifestyles. Yes, he probably eats more junk than some kids, but I don't know any of those ones!
Plus Oliver actually likes exercise. He likes to run. He often opts to come on my walks or go bike riding with me. He spends a lot of time climbing or playing with his friends outside.
I don't know what my problem is with this program, and maybe there isn't one. But if they start telling my beautiful boy he's fat and unhealthy. WATCH OUT....De Castella or no De Castella (Robert De Castella is the - apparently major health nut - who started the program), they'll have me to answer for!
The Emotional Kid
Oli's also going through another clingy/emotional stage. He wants me around all the time, and is back to cuddling up to me on the couch and giving me lots of hugs. He keeps asking me to take him/pick him up from school and gets disappointed if I can't (which unfortunately is fairly regularly).
On Sunday night, I told Oli that Merlin (our 16.5 year old labrador/retriever) was probably going to die soon. He had been pretty sluggish over the preceeding few days, and a couple of times we have not expected him to last the night (mind you, it's been very cold). Bless him, he's so old and has lost most of his hearing and sight, has dementia of some kind (he often barks at nothing at all) and has absolutely no muscle tone, but he just keeps on going. We were glad he hung on for a while after Sam died, but even Anthony is ready for him to go. Poor old chap!
Anyway, back to Oliver. When I told him that, he didn't say much. Just went out and gave Merlin a pat. But after his shower he suddenly burst into tears. He had to go back out and pat Merlin again for a while, and then came back and cried and cried. He then started talking about how when Merlin died, he would know 'four people who have died'. He named Anthony's grandparents, and Sam of course. Poor kid. So much for him to think and worry about. So much death in his short life.
Well of course we talked about how we make every day count, and how we love the time we have with people, and how death is a part of life and all that stuff, but I could see he was pretty upset. And probably not so much about Merlin.
Merlin's still with us, but we know he'll go sometime soon. Hopefully Oliver will be OK with that.
Friday, June 11, 2010
Another funeral
It was pretty awful.
I'm going to say now that I hate that it always comes back to Sam, but then again, it's always going to, isn't it?
I am very sad for my friends, and very sad for the group of people who are close to them and their daughter, who now have to start grieving. She was a lovely girl, and it was obvious by the number of people at her funeral that she was very well loved.
I had only met her a couple of times. I remember her as sweet, and gentle and very friendly. Her funeral was very moving and lovely, with some beautiful moments - when her mother, brother and sisters got up and spoke; when one of K's friends spoke beautifully; when one of her teachers spoke the words many people were obviously thinking.
When they were describing her, I was reminded of myself as a teenager. She was always trying to help people, always smiling, didn't like seeing people unhappy, wanted to be friends with everyone, not just one little group of people (and sometimes some of those little groups got angry with her). That was what I was like at school too. It's what I'm like now too, sometimes. Her birthday was 2 days before mine, too. Perhaps it's a Sagittarius thing.
But I have to admit, my thoughts did keep coming back to Sam. Their funerals were so different, and yet so similar. I certainly cried more at K's funeral than I did at Samuel's. Lots more. Especially afterwards.
I guess there are going to be lots more times that I feel this overwhelmed by grief. And it will be a long time before things are good or normal.
I'm having a day off today because I just feel so drained. I've had a little cold on and off for a few weeks now, but it's not really that. I think it's been building up for a couple of weeks now. I've got a terrible headache that is probably stress related, and my body just feels so sore and tired. I'm sure it's all stress, but I'm just going to have a quiet, nothing day.
Looks like Oliver will too.
When we picked him up yesterday after the funeral, he said "so many people are dying". I thought: what a sad thing for a six year old boy to have to be thinking about.
But I've gotta admit, it's exactly what I was thinking too. First, of course there was the Sam thing, which we're all having trouble adjusting to. Then there was my best friend's grandmother last week (which was sad, because of how my friend was feeling, but a different kind of sad, because, after all, she was 90). Then there was K. So much death. Too many unnecessary deaths!
I guess he's worried about who's going to die next. I know that thought's always in the back of my mind. I told him that people die all the time, it just happens that lately it's been people that we know. I also told him that no one we know is likely to die any time soon.
He didn't ask any more questions, and was fairly chirpy after that, so hopefully it's not worrying him too much.
But we're going to have a day off together today. I know it sounds like I'm a terrible mother, not sending him to school, but I don't care. He has got a weird looking rash on his arms, so I will take him to the doctor, but really, it's more of a mental health day for both of us.
I'm going to say now that I hate that it always comes back to Sam, but then again, it's always going to, isn't it?
I am very sad for my friends, and very sad for the group of people who are close to them and their daughter, who now have to start grieving. She was a lovely girl, and it was obvious by the number of people at her funeral that she was very well loved.
I had only met her a couple of times. I remember her as sweet, and gentle and very friendly. Her funeral was very moving and lovely, with some beautiful moments - when her mother, brother and sisters got up and spoke; when one of K's friends spoke beautifully; when one of her teachers spoke the words many people were obviously thinking.
When they were describing her, I was reminded of myself as a teenager. She was always trying to help people, always smiling, didn't like seeing people unhappy, wanted to be friends with everyone, not just one little group of people (and sometimes some of those little groups got angry with her). That was what I was like at school too. It's what I'm like now too, sometimes. Her birthday was 2 days before mine, too. Perhaps it's a Sagittarius thing.
But I have to admit, my thoughts did keep coming back to Sam. Their funerals were so different, and yet so similar. I certainly cried more at K's funeral than I did at Samuel's. Lots more. Especially afterwards.
I guess there are going to be lots more times that I feel this overwhelmed by grief. And it will be a long time before things are good or normal.
I'm having a day off today because I just feel so drained. I've had a little cold on and off for a few weeks now, but it's not really that. I think it's been building up for a couple of weeks now. I've got a terrible headache that is probably stress related, and my body just feels so sore and tired. I'm sure it's all stress, but I'm just going to have a quiet, nothing day.
Looks like Oliver will too.
When we picked him up yesterday after the funeral, he said "so many people are dying". I thought: what a sad thing for a six year old boy to have to be thinking about.
But I've gotta admit, it's exactly what I was thinking too. First, of course there was the Sam thing, which we're all having trouble adjusting to. Then there was my best friend's grandmother last week (which was sad, because of how my friend was feeling, but a different kind of sad, because, after all, she was 90). Then there was K. So much death. Too many unnecessary deaths!
I guess he's worried about who's going to die next. I know that thought's always in the back of my mind. I told him that people die all the time, it just happens that lately it's been people that we know. I also told him that no one we know is likely to die any time soon.
He didn't ask any more questions, and was fairly chirpy after that, so hopefully it's not worrying him too much.
But we're going to have a day off together today. I know it sounds like I'm a terrible mother, not sending him to school, but I don't care. He has got a weird looking rash on his arms, so I will take him to the doctor, but really, it's more of a mental health day for both of us.
Monday, June 7, 2010
Get this out of my system first
I've got a post planned, but I just wanted to do a little venting (complaining?) first. Sorry if it's 'rambly' and hard to read.
I've gotta admit, I'm struggling a little with the death of K. She was almost exactly the same age as Samuel was when he died, and it's all hitting a little too close to home. She had an asthma attack, which I must admit was what I thought had happened to Samuel for a long time.
I know that each case is different, and I'm so sad for her parents and her family and friends, but I'm also sad because of how much it reminds me of Sam's death. And how much I keep thinking that this stuff just should not happen!
I had been feeling a little sorry for myself anyway, as you know. It just seemed to be a whole lot of things that keep piling on. The inquest had come to an end (we received the updated, final death certificate today). The weather has been getting colder and more miserable. My best friend's grandmother died last week, and we went to her funeral on Thursday. I'd taken Oliver to the doctor and found out there's a chance he might have to have surgery (very minor surgery to have one of his testicles brought down, but I was freaking out about any kind of anesthetic - pathetic I know!). Work has been ultra busy. No one really comes to my Sunday drinks any more :( That person I've mentioned before was back to their old ways...things were just, well, shitty.
Then of course a tragedy like this happens, and you feel a little bit guilty that you were worried about the weather.
So it's been a pretty sad few days. I've been watching on Facebook as a page is set up for K, and people have been writing beautiful messages.
When Sam died, I suspended my account and logged out of Facebook for at least a month (I can't remember exactly how long), because I couldn't face that same outpouring. Funnily enough, once I logged back on, I couldn't get enough of the messages and wonderful support I received on there. I hope that K's family is getting something out of that.
It's not that we're close to K's family, not really. I went to high school with K's dad; I've had coffee with the family once before, and we talk on Facebook a bit, just general stuff that happens between people that are busy living.
But now, somehow we feel a connection. I hate that a connection could be formed over something so horrible, but it's there (Anthony and I have talked about it and we both feel the same). That's where all this 'searching for kindred spirits' came from.
As I've mentioned, when Samuel died, I went looking for people that felt the same way as me. Who had some kind of understanding of what I was going through. It wasn't that I felt that my family and friends were not supportive, because they were, but I wanted to talk to people who knew what it was like to have a great hole cut out of your life; one that can never be filled.
At first, I didn't have much luck; the first group I found online was way too religious for my liking! There are a couple that I have found since then, like Kate, Jaimee and Tammy (thanks girls); and I have found some good support back on Essential Baby.
But this need to reach out; to find other people who had this horrible, traumatic, life changing event envelop their lives was one of the main reasons that I started this blog. If I couldn't find them, I'd pour my heart out into the (cyber) space. Part of me (the part that always makes people want to feel better), also thought that maybe I'd be able to help someone through all of it too.
And I really want to help K's parents. Desperately! I hate that someone else has to go through all this. Someone that I know. This stuff is not supposed to happen!
I went over to see them on Saturday, not knowing if I would be a help, or just a nuisance; someone who just brought them down. I'm hoping it was the former. And I'll do anything else that I can to help them.
On Thursday, Anthony and I will go along to K's funeral. There was never any doubt that we would.
But in the end, there's nothing anyone can do. Those of us who get lumped with this horrible burden go through it so differently. There doesn't seem to be a right way, or a wrong way, just the way that's going to get us through to the other side.
I've gotta admit, I'm struggling a little with the death of K. She was almost exactly the same age as Samuel was when he died, and it's all hitting a little too close to home. She had an asthma attack, which I must admit was what I thought had happened to Samuel for a long time.
I know that each case is different, and I'm so sad for her parents and her family and friends, but I'm also sad because of how much it reminds me of Sam's death. And how much I keep thinking that this stuff just should not happen!
I had been feeling a little sorry for myself anyway, as you know. It just seemed to be a whole lot of things that keep piling on. The inquest had come to an end (we received the updated, final death certificate today). The weather has been getting colder and more miserable. My best friend's grandmother died last week, and we went to her funeral on Thursday. I'd taken Oliver to the doctor and found out there's a chance he might have to have surgery (very minor surgery to have one of his testicles brought down, but I was freaking out about any kind of anesthetic - pathetic I know!). Work has been ultra busy. No one really comes to my Sunday drinks any more :( That person I've mentioned before was back to their old ways...things were just, well, shitty.
Then of course a tragedy like this happens, and you feel a little bit guilty that you were worried about the weather.
So it's been a pretty sad few days. I've been watching on Facebook as a page is set up for K, and people have been writing beautiful messages.
When Sam died, I suspended my account and logged out of Facebook for at least a month (I can't remember exactly how long), because I couldn't face that same outpouring. Funnily enough, once I logged back on, I couldn't get enough of the messages and wonderful support I received on there. I hope that K's family is getting something out of that.
It's not that we're close to K's family, not really. I went to high school with K's dad; I've had coffee with the family once before, and we talk on Facebook a bit, just general stuff that happens between people that are busy living.
But now, somehow we feel a connection. I hate that a connection could be formed over something so horrible, but it's there (Anthony and I have talked about it and we both feel the same). That's where all this 'searching for kindred spirits' came from.
As I've mentioned, when Samuel died, I went looking for people that felt the same way as me. Who had some kind of understanding of what I was going through. It wasn't that I felt that my family and friends were not supportive, because they were, but I wanted to talk to people who knew what it was like to have a great hole cut out of your life; one that can never be filled.
At first, I didn't have much luck; the first group I found online was way too religious for my liking! There are a couple that I have found since then, like Kate, Jaimee and Tammy (thanks girls); and I have found some good support back on Essential Baby.
But this need to reach out; to find other people who had this horrible, traumatic, life changing event envelop their lives was one of the main reasons that I started this blog. If I couldn't find them, I'd pour my heart out into the (cyber) space. Part of me (the part that always makes people want to feel better), also thought that maybe I'd be able to help someone through all of it too.
And I really want to help K's parents. Desperately! I hate that someone else has to go through all this. Someone that I know. This stuff is not supposed to happen!
I went over to see them on Saturday, not knowing if I would be a help, or just a nuisance; someone who just brought them down. I'm hoping it was the former. And I'll do anything else that I can to help them.
On Thursday, Anthony and I will go along to K's funeral. There was never any doubt that we would.
But in the end, there's nothing anyone can do. Those of us who get lumped with this horrible burden go through it so differently. There doesn't seem to be a right way, or a wrong way, just the way that's going to get us through to the other side.
Friday, April 30, 2010
The Reason
We got some news about Sam's death yesterday.
(Attention Reader - Please be aware that the contents of this post may be distressing or disturbing).
I'd actually been expecting it to take a lot longer, so I'm not sure if I was prepared for it or not. I was at work in the morning when I noticed Anthony had called. I keep my phone with me for the time, but never answer it when I'm teaching. As I was standing there talking to a class, I noticed that it kept ringing and buzzing messages, so as soon as I could I prevailed on the teacher nearby to keep an eye out, and then popped around the corner and called him (by this time there were 2 text messages and 3 missed calls so I knew it was important).
Anthony was very upset, and told me he had just heard from the detective in charge of the investigation into Sam's death. By now I was pretty upset too, and all I could think about was going home and hugging him (so glad this didn't happen while I was in Melbourne!). I called the executive, who (thankfully) came down straight away and I just ran out of there. I have never left work so quickly, but I knew if I didn't I was going to fall apart right there in front of all the kids.
I cried all the way home, because Anthony had already told me what was going on. And when I saw him I cried a lot more.
So this is what we know:
Sometime during the night of the 21st/22nd December, Samuel vomited. He was a very deep sleeper, and was probably sleeping on his back, and the official (so far) word is that 'he asphyxiated on the contents of his stomach.' I believe the other term for this is 'aspirated'.
That's it.
I am a little torn. While it is good to know what happened, I'm also a little (pissed off? frustrated? disappointed? devastated?) that it was this stupid little thing that killed him. Not a condition (like a heart attack or an aneurysm or an asthma attack), but an event. A stupid, one in a million, crazy accident. One minute I feel like screaming, and the next I feel so flat. It's not that I wanted it to be some glamorous, exotic cause of death, and I definitely didn't want it to be something that I'd have to watch Oliver for, but it just seems so...I don't know...pointless.
Don't get me wrong, it's good to know what it was that took my beautiful boy away from me. It does help to ease some of those little twinges (What could I have done differently? What if I had/hadn't....?), but it doesn't really make me feel any better.
There's nothing we could have done. Samuel did vomit more than others (and was sometimes pretty disgusting about it, as I have posted previously), but as my GP said when I spoke to him today, short of lying down next to him every night and watching him sleep (which I can tell you now Samuel would NOT have allowed!), we couldn't have prevented it.
There's nothing suspicious about it: he didn't eat anything unusual that night; he didn't drink or take drugs; his 'blood' results came back clear; there was (as far as I know) no sign of an allergic reaction; it was just vomit. It's a one in a million thing - it hardly ever happens to people who are not drunk, on drugs or severely ill anyway, but I guess Samuel was always destined to stand out, to not be 'one of the crowd'.
The more I think about it though, the more I think that it opens up a whole lot of other questions. How could someone sleep through that? Wouldn't your body wake you up? I know I've woken up in the past to vomit, and I'm sure Samuel has too. What was it that caused him to vomit? Did he have some kind of gastro? Was it an allergic reaction to something (although I don't there were signs of it)?
I really hope that the Coroner is able to shed some light on this.
So, we're back down again. I feel like the grief has started all over again. I was sick already (I did end up having sinus infection, and have just started antibiotics), I feel worse now. My head is pounding and I feel nauseous. I'm going to stay home have a bit of a rest tomorrow. I know people will probably think I'm bludging, or wonder why I'm making a fuss, but I can't help it, it's just the way I feel. As I've said before, I don't know the rules on this grieving thing, but I do know how I feel.
(Attention Reader - Please be aware that the contents of this post may be distressing or disturbing).
I'd actually been expecting it to take a lot longer, so I'm not sure if I was prepared for it or not. I was at work in the morning when I noticed Anthony had called. I keep my phone with me for the time, but never answer it when I'm teaching. As I was standing there talking to a class, I noticed that it kept ringing and buzzing messages, so as soon as I could I prevailed on the teacher nearby to keep an eye out, and then popped around the corner and called him (by this time there were 2 text messages and 3 missed calls so I knew it was important).
Anthony was very upset, and told me he had just heard from the detective in charge of the investigation into Sam's death. By now I was pretty upset too, and all I could think about was going home and hugging him (so glad this didn't happen while I was in Melbourne!). I called the executive, who (thankfully) came down straight away and I just ran out of there. I have never left work so quickly, but I knew if I didn't I was going to fall apart right there in front of all the kids.
I cried all the way home, because Anthony had already told me what was going on. And when I saw him I cried a lot more.
So this is what we know:
Sometime during the night of the 21st/22nd December, Samuel vomited. He was a very deep sleeper, and was probably sleeping on his back, and the official (so far) word is that 'he asphyxiated on the contents of his stomach.' I believe the other term for this is 'aspirated'.
That's it.
I am a little torn. While it is good to know what happened, I'm also a little (pissed off? frustrated? disappointed? devastated?) that it was this stupid little thing that killed him. Not a condition (like a heart attack or an aneurysm or an asthma attack), but an event. A stupid, one in a million, crazy accident. One minute I feel like screaming, and the next I feel so flat. It's not that I wanted it to be some glamorous, exotic cause of death, and I definitely didn't want it to be something that I'd have to watch Oliver for, but it just seems so...I don't know...pointless.
Don't get me wrong, it's good to know what it was that took my beautiful boy away from me. It does help to ease some of those little twinges (What could I have done differently? What if I had/hadn't....?), but it doesn't really make me feel any better.
There's nothing we could have done. Samuel did vomit more than others (and was sometimes pretty disgusting about it, as I have posted previously), but as my GP said when I spoke to him today, short of lying down next to him every night and watching him sleep (which I can tell you now Samuel would NOT have allowed!), we couldn't have prevented it.
There's nothing suspicious about it: he didn't eat anything unusual that night; he didn't drink or take drugs; his 'blood' results came back clear; there was (as far as I know) no sign of an allergic reaction; it was just vomit. It's a one in a million thing - it hardly ever happens to people who are not drunk, on drugs or severely ill anyway, but I guess Samuel was always destined to stand out, to not be 'one of the crowd'.
The more I think about it though, the more I think that it opens up a whole lot of other questions. How could someone sleep through that? Wouldn't your body wake you up? I know I've woken up in the past to vomit, and I'm sure Samuel has too. What was it that caused him to vomit? Did he have some kind of gastro? Was it an allergic reaction to something (although I don't there were signs of it)?
I really hope that the Coroner is able to shed some light on this.
So, we're back down again. I feel like the grief has started all over again. I was sick already (I did end up having sinus infection, and have just started antibiotics), I feel worse now. My head is pounding and I feel nauseous. I'm going to stay home have a bit of a rest tomorrow. I know people will probably think I'm bludging, or wonder why I'm making a fuss, but I can't help it, it's just the way I feel. As I've said before, I don't know the rules on this grieving thing, but I do know how I feel.
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Religion
Disclaimer: The opinions expressed in this blog post are my opinions. If you don't agree with them, that's your right, but I'm exercising my right to express them.
I've never been a 'believer'. I think it's fantastic that faith, in whatever religion, is of great comfort to some people and has helped them through some rough times, but it's not for me. I have felt even more strongly about this since Samuel died. If a God 'chooses' to take my Sam, but populates the world with rapists, murderers and other horrible people, then I don't want any part of them. That's not a 'plan' that I'm happy to participate in.
Advice for comforting the bereaved
In the many messages and cards that we received after Sam died, God got a mention. Now I don't mind "You're in our prayers", or "I'll pray for you"; I guess that gives the sender some comfort too. But personally, I'm not going to take much comfort in "God has taken him home" or "he's in a better place", or "it's all part of God's plan". I don't agree! He WAS home, he WAS in a really good place!
When I send a card to someone, I'm not likely to write things that might upset people, but it seems it's perfectly OK to bring religion into it. This seems unusual in a modern world where there are so many religions, and so many non-believers.
It probably sounds petty, but it was one of the things that upset me the most. Don't get me wrong, I really appreciated everyone sending messages, and as I said, they might like to pray themselves, but spare a thought for the people who already have so much on their minds.
So perhaps if you're sending a message, save the religious statements for those people you that you know share your beliefs: members of your family, people in your parish etc. For everyone else, "You're in our thoughts" is just fine.
I've never been a 'believer'. I think it's fantastic that faith, in whatever religion, is of great comfort to some people and has helped them through some rough times, but it's not for me. I have felt even more strongly about this since Samuel died. If a God 'chooses' to take my Sam, but populates the world with rapists, murderers and other horrible people, then I don't want any part of them. That's not a 'plan' that I'm happy to participate in.
Advice for comforting the bereaved
In the many messages and cards that we received after Sam died, God got a mention. Now I don't mind "You're in our prayers", or "I'll pray for you"; I guess that gives the sender some comfort too. But personally, I'm not going to take much comfort in "God has taken him home" or "he's in a better place", or "it's all part of God's plan". I don't agree! He WAS home, he WAS in a really good place!
When I send a card to someone, I'm not likely to write things that might upset people, but it seems it's perfectly OK to bring religion into it. This seems unusual in a modern world where there are so many religions, and so many non-believers.
It probably sounds petty, but it was one of the things that upset me the most. Don't get me wrong, I really appreciated everyone sending messages, and as I said, they might like to pray themselves, but spare a thought for the people who already have so much on their minds.
So perhaps if you're sending a message, save the religious statements for those people you that you know share your beliefs: members of your family, people in your parish etc. For everyone else, "You're in our thoughts" is just fine.
Sunday, February 7, 2010
To blog or not to blog?
Yeah, I know, corny title, but it is the question I've been asking myself.
Isn't grief supposed to be a private process? Aren't I supposed to keep my sadness to myself?
Who wrote the rules on grieving anyway?
What's this all about?
Samuel (my beloved first born son) died in his sleep about 6 weeks ago. I don't know why yet, and probably won't for a long time (his death is the subject of a current inquest). He was a healthy, active, vibrant 13 year old boy with his life ahead of him. I can't make any sense of it, and in a lot of ways, I still don't accept that it has happened. I mean, I know that he's gone, I saw his body, but I still expect him, or someone to say "nah, we were just kidding".
Back to the subject of this post
I'm a talker. Whether it's verbal or written, I've always talked through my problems. I've started keeping a journal to put down my thoughts during this whole grief thing. Then I got to thinking, wouldn't a blog be a good way of not only getting my thoughts down, but also of recording my memories of Sam and sharing them with the world. Samuel was a pretty amazing kid. He wasn't famous, or extraordinarily talented, but he was great. Why shouldn't I share that with the world? I guess I could create a website, but I don't have the time to maintain it, or the money I guess. But blogging is cheap, easy and I can incorporate anything I want into it.
But haven't you blogged before?
Well yes, thanks for asking. And I did OK too, for a while. The I got busy and it dropped off. Plus I ran out of things to write about. Not to mention the fact that many others were blogging (much more effectively I might add) about the same subject.
Who knows, I might do the same thing again, and if I do, I do. But is it not worth trying?
Samuel has 2 Facebook pages dedicated to him. Neither were created by me. One is a group that was created by his friends on the day he died (they were nice enough to include me as ad admin), and the other is a fan page. They are great, and a good way for people to remember and honour Samuel, if they are on Facebook. As strange as it is for me to believe, some people are not on Facebook. So perhaps a blog? I guess you probably have to join blogger, but it's probably less taxing than taking on a Facebook account.
So, dear reader, what do you think? Would you read a blog dedicated to Sam? I'll try a few posts and see how it goes...
Isn't grief supposed to be a private process? Aren't I supposed to keep my sadness to myself?
Who wrote the rules on grieving anyway?
What's this all about?
Samuel (my beloved first born son) died in his sleep about 6 weeks ago. I don't know why yet, and probably won't for a long time (his death is the subject of a current inquest). He was a healthy, active, vibrant 13 year old boy with his life ahead of him. I can't make any sense of it, and in a lot of ways, I still don't accept that it has happened. I mean, I know that he's gone, I saw his body, but I still expect him, or someone to say "nah, we were just kidding".
Back to the subject of this post
I'm a talker. Whether it's verbal or written, I've always talked through my problems. I've started keeping a journal to put down my thoughts during this whole grief thing. Then I got to thinking, wouldn't a blog be a good way of not only getting my thoughts down, but also of recording my memories of Sam and sharing them with the world. Samuel was a pretty amazing kid. He wasn't famous, or extraordinarily talented, but he was great. Why shouldn't I share that with the world? I guess I could create a website, but I don't have the time to maintain it, or the money I guess. But blogging is cheap, easy and I can incorporate anything I want into it.
But haven't you blogged before?
Well yes, thanks for asking. And I did OK too, for a while. The I got busy and it dropped off. Plus I ran out of things to write about. Not to mention the fact that many others were blogging (much more effectively I might add) about the same subject.
Who knows, I might do the same thing again, and if I do, I do. But is it not worth trying?
Samuel has 2 Facebook pages dedicated to him. Neither were created by me. One is a group that was created by his friends on the day he died (they were nice enough to include me as ad admin), and the other is a fan page. They are great, and a good way for people to remember and honour Samuel, if they are on Facebook. As strange as it is for me to believe, some people are not on Facebook. So perhaps a blog? I guess you probably have to join blogger, but it's probably less taxing than taking on a Facebook account.
So, dear reader, what do you think? Would you read a blog dedicated to Sam? I'll try a few posts and see how it goes...
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