The loving and missing of my son will never get “better.” It’s easier to live with these days, chronic, not acute. Integrated, part of me, part of the fabric of my life and my family. As eight demonstrated, there are flareups. Which is ok. This is not a condition from which I ever hoped to “recover.” Because after all, we don’t stop loving someone just because they die.
Read MorePlease join me in welcoming Jo-Anne as Glow's new forum moderator. In her own words: "Two years ago, I felt truly lost. I listened to people tell me how I would get over this and have more children, this just days, even hours, after we found out Zia had died and I felt ready to just give up. I kept shutting further down because there was truly no one around me who seemed to understand the depth of my loss and that it was not as simple as everyone thought it was..."
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We are honored today to have a guest post from Robyn, Owen's mummy, of The Heart Sees Clearly. She writes: "I present to you my new definition of strength, as it applies to my grieving heart: The ability to carry on one minute and allow yourself to fall apart the next. The willingness to make yourself vulnerable, to be honest with your emotions, to cry and scream when you need to. The capacity to feel joy without guilt. The selfless act of taking on the suffering so your child does not have to. The power to let go, when all you want to do is hold on, when all you want is one more cuddle. To live, knowing your child will always be with you in your heart."
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We have had these pauses before, but none as long as this. I rub my fingertips together and feel that chalky residue, the contamination of Death. It is this, I guess. I am the face of Death. She is pregnant. No one wants those two to mix.
Read MoreBereaved parents of lost babies and potential of all kinds: come here to share the technicolour, the vividness, the despair, the heart-broken-open, the compassion, and the other side of getting through this mess called grief.
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Parents of lost babies and potential of all kinds: come here to share the technicolour, the vividness, the despair, the heart-broken-open, the compassion we learn for others, having been through this mess — and see it reflected back at you, acknowledged and understood.
Thanks to photographer Xin Li and to artist Stephanie Sicore for their respective illustrations and photos.
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