Sunday 30th August
“I try to take one day at a time.
But sometimes
Several days attack me at once.”
How true is that statement?
For quite some time now I have been holding it together. Well, I’d like to think so; my outward appearance gives that impression, whilst inside I’m filled with sadness and grief.
Every now and again I have a little help from prescription pills, but I don’t like to take them regularly. I do take St. John’s wort though, every morning, (supposedly nature’s prozac), and I do believe it does take the edge off of stressful situations or episodes of depression.
Today whilst out with my husband, mum and sister, (our regular Sunday ‘shop and lunch’), I felt ‘funny’. A strange tightening in my throat and neck, pain in my head and stomach. Most unnerving. My husband is convinced it was a panic attack. But I don’t panic. I’m sensible, I’m calm, I don’t worry, I’m level-headed. Or I would like to think so. But today, I just didn’t feel right.
Maybe several days were attacking me all at once. Maybe my grief just wanted an outlet, and bubbled up to the surface for a while. Maybe last night I didn’t really sleep properly and was awoken by a nightmare, silently screaming.
It took a bit of time, but sitting down, making an effort to breathe slowly and deeply, the tightness around my throat and chest began to lessen. My hands no longer gripped the edge of the table so firmly.
Was it a panic attack? I really don’t know. But I didn’t like the way I felt. Most unusual.
I do know that I think about you constantly: right from the moment I wake up, when I see your photograph on my bedside table; throughout every minute of the day; during the time spent at your graveside; to the evening when I close your curtains; and then when I sleep, when I try to have happy dreams about you.
I miss you so much.
Sending love and kisses and hugs.
Sweet Angel of mine.
Darling son.
xxxx
The Journey of My Left Foot (whilst remembering my son) 
Please take care of yourself. I know you’re just a stranger to me, but from how you describe the relationship you and your son had (and still have, I truly believe), I know he wouldn’t want you to suffer. I have no idea what it’s like to share your grief; I can only imagine, and it starts to break my heart. But know that I admire you as a mother, and I want nothing more than for you to be safe, healthy, and, as impossible as it may seem now, happy someday with the wealth of memories and good times you’ve accumulated. It’s not fair that you won’t be able to make more, but no one can take the ones you already have from you. No one. Please be well. I will worry about you, stranger. Fellow mother. Fellow heart on earth. I look forward to learning more about your lovely and very loved son over time.
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Such caring and uplifting words.
I cannot thank you enough for taking the time to write.
This has made me feel a whole lot better.
Thank you so much xx
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I’m so sorry. My heart aches just reading about your journey. Such a tough thing to share. I pray you breathe easier and find the peace and healing to take life one day at a time. Maybe even one minute at a time. Whatever it takes to get you through. ❤️
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Thank you so much for your kind and encouraging message.
Much appreciated x
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You are so welcome. If we aren’t in this world to do that then what are we here for?
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So kind x
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It does sound like a panic attack to me. You have such a heavy burden to carry. The fact that you even get out of bed amazes me. You are a strong woman!
Melinda
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Thank you for your kind thoughts.
Much appreciated x
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Melanie,
Medically it sounds like a panic attack…..I would call it a “Grief Attack” . I’ve had them both. I was never one to panic either. I was always the strong one.The leader.
I am not sure why,we, as grieving parents feel we have to be strong all the time.
Well, Actually I do….We feel like we need to be strong for our spouses. Other children if we have them and I know you do. Our parents. The list goes on…
We want our child in Heaven to be proud of us.
So we go on and on. Holding our emotions in. Our feelings. We try not to cry.
We live our lives the best we can.
Yet, every day, all day long, we are always aware of what we no longer have. Our child,HERE, On earth…..It doesn’t matter if they are in a better place. We know they are happy.
We were never trained for any of this.
It is not anything we can prepare ourselves for……
Death is a loss…..Not a memory loss. Our child is still in our HEARTS just as much as he was here on earth.
The feelings are the same.
It still hasn’t been long for you.
Not that it would matter.
I still have grief attacks that hit without warning.
Again, I wish I could help…..I can’t . Oh how I wish I could…
If these attacks happen often, then see your doctor. If you are worried about them…..See your doctor…
Love to you,
Hugs to your husband.
Sarah
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Thank you Sarah for your kind and compassionate words.
I know you understand.
I think I do need to book an appointment with my doctor: it’s a month since the last one, and he did say I should come back in four weeks time to review the medication.
Love and hugs to you and yours x
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