04 Sep Sudden rememberings…

“I miss you, not just once in a while, but every minute of every day. I miss your smile, your beautiful soul. I miss you in the quiet moments, and in the crowded rooms filled with laughter. But most of all, I miss the joy that you brought into our world.”

I miss you (a lot)

– Mark Lemon

I want to just remember the happy times – twenty five years of beautiful joys that Ben brought into our world. And I’m so incredibly thankful for every precious minute.

But too often I find myself remembering and reliving moments I don’t want to remember.

In the days weeks months and years following Ben’s unexpected death in 2018, they were full blown panic attacks. Night after night I would suddenly jump up – sweating, trembling, struggling to breathe, heart pounding…

…annihilating, debilitating, incapacitating shock induced anxiety attacks.

Now, almost five years on, they’re less dramatic – but still grip me like a vice as I relive the horrific moment we were told Ben didn’t make it. It still hurts in the pit of my stomach. Still makes my heart beat faster and still makes breathing hard. Although unwelcome, I sometimes let myself indulge them because it’s impossible to separate the happy from the sad. They’re all part of the same story.

There’s no pattern or obvious trigger. I could be sleeping, driving, shopping, sitting in a meeting or even mid conversation when a sudden unexpected image, memory or just fresh realisation that Ben is dead invades my mind and takes me right back into the moment. I find myself almost paralysed by grief.

Sometimes my eyes just fill with tears. Other times I go blank or my face starts burning and I get that horrible panicky sick feeling in the pit of my gut. It must appear rude as I do strange things to try and distract myself. Explaining would tip me over the edge yet trying to hold it together is exhausting.

There are no words to describe memories that have the power to sap my energy like this…

…the terrible drive to the hospital – those horrific words – kissing my darling boy’s lifeless face – arriving home to a house filled with anguish – a broken family – an empty bedroom – a burial… I could go on and on. But it’s too distressing to write – or read!

Part of us died that day too and we’re still trying to relearn how to live. There is no timeline, no shortcuts and no reprieve. Just an indescribable painful invisible wound! This is grief.

Then I remembered a couple of years ago I benefited hugely from an eight week course of ‘trauma focused grief therapy’ which I would totally recommend as an alternative to counselling.

I was given some very useful techniques to try and superimpose happy images over sad ones. I still use these. Sometimes they work but other times my head and heart are determined to take me to places I quite frankly don’t want to go – yet can’t stop myself!

I guess it must be my traumatised subconscious brain responding to something it still can’t really accept. This current spate is probably due to our impending milestone date – October 7th. Five years without our darling boy! An unbearable loss no parent ever imagines having to live with.

I wrote a blog back in 2021 and realise not much has changed since then! Below is an extract from: https://www.theonemoment.co.uk/sleep-and-therapy/

Noreen Tehrani (therapist) explained that sudden, unexpected, out of order death (particularly the death of a child) is the most difficult type of death to come to terms with. Just hearing her acknowledge that, was like having a huge weight lifted!

I literally breathed a sigh of relief! So be encouraged dear friends – what we’re feeling is normal. I honestly could have hugged her. The incredible yet simple power of acknowledgment. The hope that comes from talking to someone who understands.

I’m not crazy – just a normal person trying to live an abnormal life

That is not in any way meant to diminish the pain of other griefs – because all grief is personal and relative to those grieving the loss of their loved one. My grief is the loss of my child – yours may be different. It all hurts because there is this huge empty space where our special person should be – with us.

I’m blessed and strengthened by those who sadly know this pain. We walk together side by side – helping and encouraging each other. Others who try to understand faithfully sit with me in my brokenness – listening and caring without judgement. Their selfness empathy is empowering and a life saver! Precious siver linings on this impossible journey. But it’s still hard – so so hard.

I have to keep reminding myself that grief is simply love and that’s what keeps us connected to Ben. This is life now – grief and love are one entity and absorbed into absolutely everything. It’s a different way of living – a tumultuous road that takes a lot of getting used to. Grief is irrational and unpredictable but it’s the price we pay for love – and I wouldn’t change that. 💛

It really is ok not to be ok!

This is my Grief - by Noreen Tehrani
 
I need to be inconsolable to feel the depth of my pain
I want to be unhinged - at least for a while
I cannot be helped by people who are too certain
 
Give me a hearing without solutions
Give me space without paths
Give me time without limits
Give me understanding without reason
 

⁃ Dr Noreen Tehrani – chartered occupational, counselling and health psychologist