Tuesday, 1 April 2014

Julz: An Anniversary

How has it been two years?

How was this the last thing I remember about being normal?

A simple photo that would become a favourite, but also the hated. The one that we took for granted the we thought we could repeat as a whole family, as her biggest sister was missing that day. The photo we so naively thought everything was perfect.

Only for the next one, taken less than 24 hours afterwards to be the exact opposite.

The ones that followed would become the faces of bereaved parents, not just a happy couple. From the numb and speechless.

Our changing eyes, less heavy than the one before, yet the pain is still as heavy as the first.

Showing the world that we aren’t beaten, if at times we feel nothing but.

We never envisaged that walking through the unit doors two years ago, to be greeted by the words, “She’s not going to survive”  would be anything but a nightmare, an April Fools’ joke.

Broken, beyond repair, no easy fix solution.
No faith, no beliefs would ever put this right.

No believing that she is all around us, or visiting every body else.

No fluffiness or making the sun shine.

No finding feathers, or the butterflies floating by.

The only place she resides is in her mum and dad’s hearts.

My damaged mind searching for why people think they can “feel” her, when all I feel is numb. When I’m told that she can be felt by other people it makes me then wonder does Melody blame me? Does she STILL not belong to us? Our Daughter, but not our own.  Was she ever ours in the first place?

My shattered thoughts searching for a way to go back and change things, when indeed that is impossible.

No believing that everything happens for a reason,

(neither do I believe that Melody died so we could have her sister).

I cannot think why we were allowed to get to know and think our baby was ok.

Then be taken away. What would ever be a good enough reason for this? I sometimes wish I could believe in a reason, maybe it’ll appear one day, maybe it won’t. I won’t get, lost looking.

I have changed, I don’t know who I am any more I don’t want to forget her, of course I don’t she is part of my life, my daughter.

But now sometimes I feel as though I am living for the next milestone.

The next person to walk away from me.

I just want to feel human again.

I’m slowly regaining a social circle, but am petrified of getting close to them,

or letting on too much about Melody or doing something

All trust lost.

I feel awkward in the way I am.

Still having people tell me they don’t know what to say to me.

How do I find me again?

How can I learn to be normal again?

To the outside I put up a mask, a very good one at that.

I’m done with grief,  and watching others grieve for her, when I can no longer cry, “Melody doesn’t wanna see mummy sad” So she won’t…

I want to learn to walk as high as 10 feet tall, rather than the 10 inches I feel at times.

I want to be her mum but not like this.

I miss her so much.

When I look back to see where I had come from to where I am,

I feel like I have paused and feel the same as I did then.

I miss her, there is nothing that will ever change that, and I will speak of her often, maybe now not as much. My heart will always feel that Melody sized heavier.

But learning to live a new life moving forward, but without leaving her behind.

I hope I can stand as strong, tall and as inspirational as the other parents in this community.

I am now a little more than existing, which feels better than it was…

Two years since we said Goodbye.

“As long as I am living, forever my baby you’ll be”

26.02.2012 – 01.04.2012

1 comment:

  1. A beautiful, poignant post Julz. Thank you so much for sharing it here. Been thinking of you lots these past few weeks and we wrote Melody's name on the beach along with our girls' names on Sunday xxx