Wasn’t quite sure on what to do for today’s as I’ve not really read anything to assist in dealing with my grief, aside from the odd article or two,
it was mainly other resources, which of course I will go into on another day.
And of course I included A Mayflower’s Rainbow in yesterdays words.
I am currently working on a project involving books, and I hope to reveal in due course, it’s something I am terribly excited about and finding almost scary. But as we know there is nothing really as scary as being in the world of being a bereaved parent.
I will do this.
So, I am sharing a book a dear friend sent to me, to get me through a difficult patch I had a few months ago, a time where everything seemed dark, the world was an incredibly ugly place, and I was fighting to breathe.
I haven’t read the whole book, I have been reading it slowly, a time to feel less alone to know there are others out there who are walking this road.
Empty Arms – A Mother’s journey through grief to hope.
(scanned feet a day before she was born, her growing had near enough stopped)
The other book is Melody’s Photo Album.
All my children have a photo album,
I didn’t see any reason why Melody shouldn’t either.
Putting the photos in was one of the first things I remember doing when she died, it was important to have her as part of the rest of the collection of photos I have.
I am lucky I do have photos of her, but it doesn’t and will never make up for not having her here.
From her first ventilator photos, she even has a cot card,
which for me is incredibly important it gives her identity, making her real,
that she did exist.
There are photos up to her first birthday, with the balloon release, and her first birthday present which was of course was her headstone.
We don’t include her sand/name photos (I’ve shared them on here before),
we scrap book those,
it didn’t feel right having them in a photo album…
although nothing about any of this is right.
And we also don’t include any photos which were taken after she died,
John and I both find it heartbreaking to look at them,
it’s hard to accept our daughter has died without watching her leave, fade away. It took me two years to look at them alone, without hold John’s hand.
I do feel guilty because I should love every photo, especially when other people can
but there is enough guilt to carry without focusing on that one.