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In a moment of peace
Come now, come by our side
A place where you can hide
We are the sunshine
Rest your Soul here
And you'll find
We are the energy
We give the world to thee
Hold up your heart now
We will ease pain from your brow
When the world is in tatters
And destruction is near
You can come with us here
When the people are strangers
You'll rest here with me
In a moment of peace
Light up the dark below,
See through the stars,
Reach to the earth's flow
Drift in the joy of our hearts,
Unleash the energy,
Taste of the wine
Drink as a Soul
That knows now, power divine
in a moment of peace
Danas ću zapaliti svijeću za malenu Petricu. Malenu anđelicu, koja je 03.01.2007. svojoj majci na rukama „zaspala“. To je najmanje što mogu za nju učiniti, njezina mama je moja prva blogo-prijateljica u tuzi, tješimo se, slušamo, i podržavamo koliko možemo.
Kada već za nas ožalošćene roditelje ne postoji mjesto gdje bi se sastajali i razgovarali onda se moramo tražiti sami. Zašto ta mala mrvica nije mogla ostati u ovom životu, rasti i uveseljavati svoju mamu, svoga tatu i malenog – odnosno za nju velikog bracu.
Jedna druga tužna majka, moja također blogo-prijateljica u tuzi koja je svog sina imala još živog dok smo Petrina mama i ja već oplakivale svoje anđele, me jednom pitala:
Sandra, kako djeca mogu umrijeti???
Nama roditeljima, barem nama majkama je zaista jako teško razgovarati s nekim ljudima koji su nam inače u životu već godinama, a da oni izbjegavaju spomenuti naše dijete. Mene to strašno boli, kasnije sam puno o tome čitala i vidjela da nisam ni sebična ni jedina koja tako razmišlja. Pa moja je Stelica živjela s nama 7,5 godina. Ta je malena draga djevojčica donijela toliko sreće u naše živote, osmjeha svakome tko ju je upoznao, bila je malo biće koje se veselilo svom odrastanju, koje je obožavalo život..........Da, mrtva je. Nema je više među živima, ne smije se, ne plače............ali bila je tu. Bila je sav moj Svijet. Jedan veliki dio mene je umro s njom, ali ja ne želim šutjeti i praviti se kao da je nije bilo, ne mogu to, kao da želim zanijekati njezino postojanje, zaboraviti ju........moja bol je moja veza s njom - jer ju više ne mogu dodirnuti, pomaziti, obrisati suze, poljubiti obraze, čuti joj glas.
....................... Moja bol je moja ljubav prema njoj .......................
Ovako piše jedna majka nakon trinaest godina tugovanja:
(Zahvaljujem mojoj Vesnici što mi pronalazi tekstove i pjesme)
My daughter would have been 22 today had she lived.
For anyone who has lost a child, and I myself have lost two, the pain, anger and sorrow don't become any less sharp. Those feelings may take a back seat to the inevitable everyday tasks and duties that we must carry out, but I find the smallest reminder can easily bring them to the fore again. For me, it is birthdays or holidays, a certain child's cry, baby booties or a child s eyes looking into mine.
I used to ask myself if it was wrong to continue to feel the grief so deeply until I met another woman who had also lost a child. She, too, had the same conflicts of emotion: the need to "get on with life" and "snap out of it" versus the need to keep our children's memories alive.
When we lose a child, especially if it is sudden and unexpected, it is as if a part of us dies too. There is a strong connection with our children which starts from the time a single seed is fertilized and becomes a living being. For mothers, there is no relationship more intimate that that of a woman with her unborn child during pregnancy.
Because of this, we feel our children's every hurt, we instinctively know what they need, and we live to protect them. When they die, the loss of this "human" connection can bring on the most terrible kind of grief. Because we feel that we must "move on," many of us keep this grief internally, afraid to admit that it doesn't get any better.
Having said that, there are ways of managing the pain and grief, so that it doesn't overwhelm your life and does allow you to move on. Here are the things that I found helped (and continue to help) me:
Grieve. I was unable to grieve properly for 13 years, until I went to Cruse, a bereavement society specializing in grief counseling. It is OK to grieve, and there need be no time limit to your grief. Grieving is healthy and it helps you to rationalize your feelings.
Talk about it. You may feel that you don't want to talk to people, because you don't want them to feel uncomfortable. However, not talking about your child may make you as if they never existed or were no longer a part of your life—and they are!
One of my greatest achievements was when someone asked me how many children I had, and I said three, but two died. Previously, I would have said one. Yes, there may be an awkward moment on the part of the listener, but to me, I have acknowledged all my children. Once it becomes apparent that I am not uncomfortable discussing it, the listener will relax too and the awkwardness will pass—for both of you!
If you keep your child's spirit alive, you will keep yourself alive and your emotions balanced. Talk about your child, what they did, how they looked, their favorite toy, what they might have been like now. You will find the memories uplifting and your child will continue to be a part of your family. More importantly, you may find that the grieving process becomes easier.
I am not saying that we should build a shrine for a lost child, but by the same token, I personally believe that it is unhealthy to simply stop talking about them.
Take the good days with the bad. Even years and years following the death of your child, you will have your good and bad days. This is normal—we are not super women, we are human. When I woke up this morning, I said "It's Jennifer's birthday. She would have been 22 today," and I cried—a deep, soul-wrenching cry. Then I talked about her. It helped a lot.
Post je objavljen 03.01.2008. u 07:00 sati.