23 Apr The power of a date…

Extract from my journal: Ben’s birthday April 2024

Trying to celebrate the birth date of a child who is no longer here is harder than hard. Instead of getting easier as the years go by I actually think it gets more complex and difficult to manage.

Friends who have faithfully walked with me over the last five years possibly think I’m more ok than I am. But the gnawing pain in my soul churns over and over until at times I feel physically sick. It’s like someone is punching me from the inside and it hurts! Too often I think I just can’t do it any more.

Today is Monday – it’s Ben’s birthday on Wednesday 24th.

Last Saturday I felt ok (or as ok as I usually am).

Sunday woke up crying – felt like I’d spent the night in a boxing ring. Tired and agitated. Head hurt. Heart hurt. Everything heavy broken empty…

I didn’t consciously decide I was going to be sad – it just happened. Grief’s like that – it bubbles up out of nowhere. Unpredictable, exhausting, debilitating and complicated.

I planned to go to church but couldn’t – not because people aren’t kind but because I don’t want my misery to be contagious or for people to feel awkward. My emotions are so fragile and on edge that I’m never sure what they’re going to do next.

So I threw myself into cooking (Ben’s wonderful friends coming over for a bbq) making food that I know he would like, putting up birthday bunting, moving his photos around – preparing for a party without him. It’s just all so horribly wrong.

He’s gone but he’s not. I sense his beautiful presence and energy everywhere. He’s still part of our family. His name slips naturally into conversations, stories, rememberings. I hear his voice, feel his touch and see his beautiful beautiful smile – but it frightens me senseless that these things might be fading. I have to try and keep him alive – it’s my mum duty and I do it unashamedly.

I want to run but there’s nowhere to run to. So I sit and cuddle the dog – he senses my agitation and helps more than his little doggie brain can ever know. He snuggles in as close as he can, resting his head on my hand – his unconditional love soothes my hurting.

Unless you’ve had to face a birthday for a child who has died you can’t fully understand how utterly soul destroying it is. Yet not doing it isn’t an option.

It’s his special day – a celebration of the day he took his first breath. The day we all fell in love with him. The day he made our already beautiful family even more beautiful. It will never make sense that he’s gone.

And I can say without a shadow of doubt that if I had known we would only have 25 years – I would willingly do it all over again. He is more than worth all this pain.

So I WILL my love to reach up into the heavens – I WILL him to feel it. I WILL him to know that we’re celebrating his birthday – that he is still loved and remembered (not just on birthdays and anniversaries) but every single day of every single year. That he is still part of everything we do.

That he is never ever forgotten 💛

Happy birthday darling Ben

CREDIT: Ruth McDonald 2024