Category Archives: chemotherapy

May13

More memories of you

Posted on May 13, 2015 by MeRaw

Wednesday 13th May

Whilst having a coffee this morning, we bumped into a Teaching Assistant who looked after you in Primary School when you were seven years old. She recalled you being such a fidgety thing, that during your first assemblies your teacher would sit you on her lap, and hold on to you in a vice-like grip, so that you didn’t disturb the proceedings!

She also remembers the countless times when you would pull out the tray, beneath your desk, let it teeter on the edge, then say ‘Whoops’ when all the contents fell on the floor!

You were so cheeky, but everyone loved you.

This lady also told us that when she heard of your passing, she was in Canterbury, and so went to the cathedral there. She passed a stone table with a book set upon it, asking if people were thinking of someone, to write that name down, and this person would then join the Archbishop of Canterbury at the high altar in spirit. You really do fly like an angel with important people in high places.

So there we are my darling, my dear sweet son. People just want to share their memories of you. Again we think it is wonderful, but makes us feel so sad that we no longer have you here with us. We shed a few tears.

All we have is your presence, standing by your graveside, hoping you can feel us close to you.

You really did touch so many peoples’ lives.

May12

We spoke of you

Posted on May 12, 2015 by MeRaw

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Tuesday 12th May

This morning I had a one hour, introductory, grief-counselling telephone call. It was an exceptionally draining experience. We spoke of you, your life, your travels, your problems, your struggles, and the joy you brought. I also had to speak of your passing, how I was feeling and answer a range of questions. I am moderately to severely anxious and depressed. Think I knew that, but a base line assessment was needed, with a follow-up call in a week’s time to discuss ways forward.

Next, we speak of you at length with your old primary school teacher on our afternoon walk around the town. Reminiscing about a simpler life nearly twenty years ago.

I talk about you with another lady whose husband is also going through chemotherapy, but was diagnosed too late, and has been given two years. This lady was very understanding of my feelings, but quite distraught for herself. We had a connection through our circumstances, and spoke for over half an hour; we had an empathy with one another, that would not normally have led to such a long conversation.

We spoke about you with a café owner, who remembers your love of the multi-layered rainbow cake that you tried not so long ago. Much was left unspoken, but long, embracing hugs conveyed so much.

Ordering a coffee to sit beside the beach, we chatted with the owner of the surf school. He remembers you, walking across the beach, or sitting on the wall above the lifeguard’s hut: people watching, looking out to sea, smiling, lost in thought. When he’d told us this, and had walked away, we both sobbed into our coffee cups. Someone to whom we hadn’t ever spoken knew you, and had a small insight into your everyday comings and goings. It was lovely he shared that memory with us, but had unknowingly made us so sad.

Our final trip of the day was to drive out to see you and speak with you. We cried a lot at your graveside, having had so many instances where you popped into our thoughts, conversations and memories.

This is hard. I know no-one said it would be easy, but we have so much love for you, missing you is just heart-breaking for us.

Lovely boy. x

May11

Begging

Posted on May 11, 2015 by MeRaw

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Monday 11th May

So today we go begging. For your fundraiser that we are planning in a couple of week’s time, we have decided to ask local businesses if they will donate items for the raffle. We are going to raise awareness and money for the Testicular Cancer charity, Checkemlads.

In your name, so far, there will be just over £2000 when we receive the retiring collection taken at the church service. Onwards and upwards to a new target ~ £5000 ~ who knows? It may be possible.

It’s very difficult, boldly approaching a shop or restaurant proprietor, and asking something for nothing. Actually, it’s not for nothing, it’s for an immensely worthy cause, and the business will gain positive publicity.

We began quite tentatively, and collected a goody bag from a wonderful Cornish fudge shop, the promise of vouchers for cream teas, a wetsuit, restaurant meals, amazing waffles…….. and we return tomorrow to ask about boat rides around the harbour, ice creams, surf lessons……. anywhere really that could offer us something to add to the supermarkets’ donations of childrens’ bikes, wine, perfume and whiskey. Plus, in the mail this morning, 50 wristbands from the charity came through the letterbox. The list is growing. And it gives me something good to focus upon; to lift our spirits, as both my husband and I have been feeling a bit down.

We tell you our plans this morning whilst standing beside your graveside. I hope you’re going to approve our ideas in memory of you. So many people knew you, and miss you wandering around the town.

We love you and think about you constantly.

Sweet Angel xxxx

To follow our fundraising, check out:

http://www.justgiving.com/FrankRawlings

May10

It ain’t the same

Posted on May 10, 2015 by MeRaw

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Sunday 10th May

It ain’t the same. And only the three of us understand exactly what that means. My husband, myself, and you.
We have really been finding it hard these last few days, anything can reduce us to tears, at any time of the day or night. For the last few years our lives were so focused on the three of us, and your passing has left such a massive void. Both our boys were our purpose for living, you both meant everything to us. But a child with special needs requires a little more than most, for a little longer than most. A different way to approach the big, wide world around him.

I thought yesterday, recalling happy, fun memories of you would help me. I thought that writing down adventures and experiences would be cathartic. I need to remember so many events and try and put them into print. I don’t want to forget, or have those memories fade. You were an amazing young man, who left his mark on so many people and places.

But it ain’t the same. That evening I cried and cried and cried. Realising that you will never again be a physical part of our family; nor a part of our holiday planning; you’ll never again give me a cuddle just before bedtime; you won’t grab my hand to cross the road. You’ll never sit in the back seat of our car, nor strap yourself into an aeroplane seat, to travel the world with us.

Standing beside your graveside today we watch the planes overhead, leaving their white trails in the sky, and we wonder what we’ll do now, without you to fly away with us. Are you flying and soaring high with the angels? I do hope that’s what you’re doing. With a big smile on your face, too.

Love you. Love you. Love you.
xxxxx

May9

Remembering ~ Good Times #1

Posted on May 9, 2015 by MeRaw

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Saturday 9th May

Sitting with my husband and sister, having a morning coffee, we began to talk about you, and your love of water. In Orlando, on our annual holidays, we have been visiting Aquatica every year since it opened in 2008, and you used to have so much fun there.

Last year you couldn’t wait to go on the new water-flume-drop, where the floor beneath your feet suddenly gives way, and you fall vertically, twisting and turning in the tunnel, until you’re ejected into the pool at the bottom. Your face, when you came towards us, having completed the ride, was full of excitement and laughter. Adrenaline pumping, you immediately turned round and joined the queue for another go. Ihu’s Breakaway Falls certainly gained your vote that day.

Another ride you always enjoyed was the Walhalla Wave, a twisty family ride, where you all sit cross-legged inside a huge rubber ring, and splash and speed downwards, through dark tunnels and open curves. The steps up to the platform giving magnificent views of SeaWorld and beyond.

The lazy rivers and wave pools were places to go to catch your breath, in between the more thrilling rides. We used to arrive just after opening, stake our place beneath a huge umbrella, chill awhile, and then wander around the park, queuing up wherever took our fancy. Quite often you would go off on your own, feeling safe, coming back at various intervals for food and drink.

Many times the afternoon would bring a thunderstorm, when the water rides and pools had to be cleared. By then we were ready for a change, and would usually end up running to the car as the big raindrops began to fall, and thunder rumbled slowly overhead. You especially liked it when we had ‘Preferred Parking’, as that meant we didn’t have to dash so far to reach the safety of our car. We were all hot and fairly tired by then, worn out by the heat and all the water rides we had been on.

We loved seeing you happy and having fun. Your smile and laughter made so much difference to our days. Orlando was your magical, summer playground, and we did everything we could to help you get the most from our time there.

I don’t know why we focused on Aquatica this morning, reminiscing about all the different types of slides, flumes through the dolphin pool, drops, rapids, waves, the heat, the shade, the people, and you. We only went there because of you. So that we could see the delight in your face. And really, we were all big kids at heart.

Missing you so much, my darling water-baby boy.

And yes, we did visit your graveside today, and we told you about our conversation, and how much we knew you loved going on holiday, and especially checking out any of the new rides. Dream about Aquatica tonight, and I’ll be there with you.

Love you xxxxx

May8

Today didn’t start so well……

Posted on May 8, 2015 by MeRaw

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Friday 8th May

I suppose I’m going to have days like these ~ days when I don’t want to get up, days when I feel miserable, days where I can’t see anything positive, days that have little purpose, days when I miss my son so very much.

And then something happens and completely changes my outlook.

Our local supermarket has a wonderful coffee shop, with super-friendly staff, and is a great place to sit and chat. Frequently, the entrance to the supermarket is manned by people shaking charity tins, for the earthquake in Nepal, the RNLI, the local surf lifesaving group, various cancer charities and the like. So that got me thinking whether I could ‘take over’ the entrance doorways, and have a fundraiser on behalf of my son, not only to collect money, but to raise awareness of Testicular Cancer too. This is quite a taboo cancer, not often shouted about, but kept quietly unspoken. I approached the coffee shop manager initially, who then spoke with the supermarket management. And they were all for it!

The supermarket would be able to donate a couple of children’s bikes, wine, whiskey and perfume, that I could use for a raffle or auction. The coffee shop would be made available for me to use for a cheese and wine evening, when the raffle would be drawn.

We spent almost an hour talking with management, bouncing around ideas, with them saying they would like to do anything they could to help. It was brilliant and made me feel so much more positive.

We also have ideas of asking the local shopkeepers if they could donate items, and whether restaurants and hotels would give vouchers for meals or spa treatments. I think friends and family are going to be spending the next few days going around the town ‘begging’. People could say no, but I’m hoping for generosity from the local community. We shall see! Anyway, it’s given me a bit more of a purpose. Something to get up for in the morning, and try and raise awareness of this awful disease.

And so, after our long ‘business meeting’, we go to visit our son in the cemetery. Despite our lightened mood, we are saddened as we stand close, and talk to him telling him of our plans. Yes, it’s great to raise awareness and money for the charity on his behalf, but we just wish it wasn’t so. It doesn’t seem right that his life was ended so suddenly, especially as he neared the completion of his treatment and we were told he was doing so well, with the tumours reducing in size. Not fair. Not fair at all.

Let’s focus on the positives then. Spreading the word about checking yourself for lumps, getting people to talk openly about testicular cancer, trying somehow, to give special needs children and adults more information about their own health care, and of course raising a ton of money for the charity.

We love you. We wish you were still here. And we’ll continue to raise awareness in your memory.

To the moon and back xxxx

Raindrops and red roses…..

May7

A tidy up

Posted on May 7, 2015 by MeRaw

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Thursday 7th May

We spend this morning with your brother, shopping, then meeting up with his girlfriend for lunch. You would have loved wandering around the charity shops with him, looking for a bargain. We talk about you often, recalling how you would spend your pocket money on books, comics and DVD’s, bought for a few pennies in these stores.

When we look at the lunch menu, I always think out loud, and say what you would have ordered, probably nachos or chicken strips, with a lemonade, no ice.

There are so many triggers that generate a memory of you. I need to start recalling and writing about all the good times and fun adventures we had. I will make that my priority.

It’s eight weeks today since you passed away. Four weeks yesterday since you were buried. It seems like a lifetime ago.

We visit your graveside on our way back home this afternoon, and we remove the flowers from the letters of your name that have faded and gone brown. You now look much more tidy.

Someone else came to visit you today, as a lovely pot of crimson red, miniature roses had been securely placed inside one of your wreaths. Who was that then? Did they stay long? What did they say to you?

We love you so much. We miss you more each day. Until tomorrow. xxxxx

May6

The gates were locked

Posted on May 6, 2015 by MeRaw

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Wednesday 6th May

Driving along to see you today, we were surprised to find the cemetery gates chained up. It was mid-morning, the sun shining, so why hadn’t someone opened up?

We parked the car a little way along the road, walked back to entrance, and opened a small side gate, which wasn’t locked.

Nothing seemed amiss, or gave any indication as to why the place had been closed.

So we walked through until we reached your resting place. Everything was safe and sound, despite the gales in the night. The tree just beside you is in full leaf, a bright, fresh green; it flutters gently in the spring breeze.

So. We talk. We tend. We tidy. We think about you constantly. We wish. We wonder. We whisper. We think about what could have been, what should have been. What we would have been doing right now. All of us. Together……..

We miss you, our dearest Angel son in heaven. xxxxx

May5

New flowers

Posted on May 5, 2015 by MeRaw

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Tuesday 5th May

Our first visit to your graveside this morning, and we’ve brought along a new glass vase and a big spray of colourful carnations. These flowers seem to last in all weathers, and appear quite hardy.

Very soon we will have to remove the chrysanthemums from the letters of your name. (We keep saying this, but holding on until the very last moment). They are slowly turning brown, and not looking their best. The gold, pleated ribbon around the edges still appears good, so we’ve decided to paint the insides of the letters white, and keep your name on top of your grave.

Our second visit to you, later in the afternoon, is to make sure your letters don’t blow away. (The wind has become very strong and gusty). We tether the letters with twine and tent-pegs.

So there we are my darling, you’re all nicely and tightly tucked in for the night.

We love you xxxxx