Monday, 30 March 2015
Going in circles - two years on..
“For in grief nothing "stays put." One keeps on emerging from a phase, but it always recurs. Round and round. Everything repeats. Am I going in circles, or dare I hope I am on a spiral?
But if a spiral, am I going up or down it?
How often -- will it be for always? -- how often will the vast emptiness astonish me like a complete novelty and make me say, "I never realized my loss till this moment"? The same leg is cut off time after time.”
― C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed
Today is a beautiful spring day. Still crisp; but bathed in a hazy sunshine and topped by the brightest blue sky. I love the sky. Blue - Chloe's favourite colour.
My pain sharpens, becomes more jagged, on days like today. Daffodils spring to life; and my eyes rest on my young daughter's picture. My young daughter who is dead. So final. So without any hope at all. So unlike those daffodils - the symbol of spring.
The sunshine makes the enormity of the loss so much clearer. It is the contrast; I think.
Chloe died two years, one month and two days ago. It seems like yesterday; it seems like a lifetime ago.
"for in grief; nothing stays put".
And that's what I am learning. One moves a little forward, one tastes a little hope, one almost feels fleeting moments of - dare I say - "happiness". But not for long; never for long. The sadness creeps back. A friend once wrote to me "grief is like being run over by a truck. It then reverses and runs you over again and again".
How very true.
But I don't write to depress. I write to share. Reading C.S. Lewis A Grief Observed is a beautiful experience. The words speak to my battered soul and whisper "you are not alone". Through them I feel a connection with another being who has survived. Despite the most viscous of all losses; he walked, he talked, he lived.
And so do I; although is some kind of weird haziness of a life. A life torn apart; a life missing a centre. " While there's life, there is hope." says Stephen Hawking. And I know that he is right. Despite having plunged the deepest depths of despair; I can still appreciate a sunny day. If somebody had told me I would live after my child had died I would never have believed it.
Does time heal? I'm really not sure. Some things feel worse. I find it impossible to look at baby photos of Chloe; to watch any video of her; to touch the huge piles of her clothes I have stored in many many boxes. It just hurts way too much.
I believe totally that one must feel the grief; sit with it; talk about it and roar in anger at the utter unfairness of fate. And when that is done; do it all over again and again and again. The real danger lies in packaging up the grief in a box, in a room, in a place and hiding away. That is the road to nowhere.
Maybe I will never look at those photos and that is only because my daughter mattered so very much to me. But I will keep trying to live; trying to love; trying to survive. And I thank all of my precious friends and family who walk beside me with all of my heart.