Today, I want to share some feelings and thoughts I have about this life after loss. Let’s look at it the other way around, let’s start with the bad, and finish with the good. Just to end with a positive note.
I envy many of my friends. Their “my kid had a nightmare”-sleepless nights, their overwhelming agenda’s running from here to there juggling their kid’s activities, their chaotic households, their obligation of taking holidays during July and August because of the school holidays, … I could go on for hours. You get the point. All those problems, that I would LOVE to have in my life. It’s a double-edged sword, this envy that I feel. Because I’m truly glad they have all these beautiful troubles in their lives, along with the precious children they have, along with that extraordinary LOVE that they can give them. I just wish I could have it too. I just wish I would be able to mother my child in life too.
Sometimes I feel alien here now. Especially at work, at social events with lots of people, on big family gatherings. Every is talking about their plans, their vacations, their happy living children, their dreams, their lives. And I can’t help but to feel alien and completely out of place. I feel that I don’t fit that puzzle anymore. I can’t even imagine that I used to be part of it. Every little thing that makes me smile, is only half a joy, because Sahar is missing, because she’s not here to experience that joy with us. Everything has a double meaning, a double perspective.
When I talk about fear after losing Sahar, everyone instinctively thinks of another pregnancy. And I’m not going to deny that pregnancy after loss is a very emotional and sensitive subject. Obviously I have fears and anxiety regarding a new pregnancy. The problem is that it doesn’t just stop there.
I’m afraid of losing anyone dear to my heart, while I didn’t really think of that a lot before loss. I fear for all my loved ones, I’m scared to ever have to face a pain similar to this again. Every headache Frank has, every discomfort that anyone would ignore and pass on as normal, triggers tremendous alarm bells in my head. I feel that Sahar’s loss has traumatized me in this sense, which is one of the reasons I’m seeking help.
This little thing called grief. My new life companion. The one I never invited in, but entered my life anyway. It’s always around. Just like my love for my daughter is. For as long as my daughter is loved, grief will be in my life. And just because of that, you learn to appreciate grief. Maybe a time will come that grief doesn’t block all the joy and happiness out like it does now, but it will be there forever. Grief will change shape, just like people’s characters do, but grief will be in my life forever.
I’m a changed person. Everyone changes when they have a child. But I can assure you the change is so much more drastic and impacting when you lose that child. You truly become a different person. I look at life from a very different perspective. I don’t let everyday things affect me so much anymore. I only keep room for the important ones. I don’t feel stressed after a busy day at work anymore. If I arrive late somewhere, I don’t beat myself up about it, I know I did everything I could to get there on time. If an unexpected bill comes in, then I just pay it. Stuff like that.
The small things that used to pass me by get more attention now. Every beautiful moment I get to spend with my sweet husband, family and friends. Every ray of light that touches my face. Every butterfly that dances by in front of my eyes. Every lady bug I come across. That moment I spend looking for a four-leaved clover. The small things. Which are actually the big things. It’s not for nothing they say that “Less is More“. It doesn’t only apply to fashion, it applies to LIFE itself.
There is always something to be GRATEFUL for.
I came across this quote in the early days after my loss, and although it took me a while to realize, this is so true. I am grateful I had Sahar. I am grateful I met her. I am grateful she lived to say goodbye. I am grateful she filled my heart with so much LOVE. I am grateful I got to see her, smell her, touch her, kiss her, cuddle and hug her. I am grateful I got to give her my warmth, my love, even if it was for a little while. I am grateful for every life lesson she has taught me in that short hour she lived. I am grateful she’s part of my life. I am grateful for Sahar.
Hope is the thing with feathersThat perches in the soulAnd sings the tune without the wordsAnd never stops at all- Emily Dickinson
Even after my dreams were shattered and broken, hope silently makes it’s entrance and makes you believe again. It’s a cautious, tentative hope. But it’s there, and it becomes present more and more. At first I didn’t dear to plan, I didn’t dear to dream, I didn’t even dear to live, thinking it might be all over in a heartbeat, realizing we cannot control the future. And we can’t. Which is exactly why we should breathe in every moment, enjoy every hug, every smile and kiss. Spending a day scared of tomorrow is a lost day. Although I will never be able to get rid of fear and worry entirely, I hope I will reach the point where I can use it to enjoy today more. Because although we plan for tomorrow, tomorrow might never come. Because for now, we only have today.
And I’m going to stop right there. Because I think that is one of the key things you need to find again after loss: hope. Happiness and bliss is the next step. But I’m not there yet, and I won’t be in a while. It takes work. It takes time. It takes life.