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For Joseph on another Friday without you

ByLaura Dove

Dear Joseph,

Today is nothing special. It’s not your birthday or an anniversary, it’s not Christmas or Easter or any particular celebration where I feel your loss more deeply. It’s a Friday and I’m sat here at the laptop,  trying to plough my way through my To Do List, to get on top of the work I have allowed to pile up over the last few weeks, and yet I simply cannot find the words to write today. Because what I really want to say, and what I wish that I could share with you, is that my heart is hurting right now, an undeniable ache in my chest which reminds me that, although eleven years have passed, time shall forever be irrelevant when it comes to missing you.

We visited you this afternoon, Megan, Harry and I. We drove down to the cemetery, a route that I could drive with my eyes closed, and brought you flowers, the brightest yellows and pinks that we could find. And whilst your brother and sister ran amongst the many, many, graves that have joined you over the last decade, in just the same way that Lewis did at that age, I sat beside you, lovingly arranging your flowers, and asked myself, for the millionth time, why?

A little while ago a friend asked me why I continue to visit your grave when it causes me so much sadness. “You can think of him anywhere!” she told me, “You can talk to him wherever you like, buy him flowers and keep them at home, you don’t need to put yourself through this?”. And I knew that she was right, I could think of you anywhere, I could feel close to you by going through your memory box in the bottom of the wardrobe, by looking at your photos, your tiny little babygros, by reminding myself that you live on in the siblings I hold in my arms. And believe me when I say that I do.

I feel your presence everywhere, in the big brother that you so resembled, in the sound of your sisters laughter, the soulful eyes of your baby brother, in the rainbows that brighten my day and the feathers that fall at my feet. I don’t have to trudge down to the cemetery, I don’t have to sit and cry at a dusty grave, nor do I have to torture myself with the all consuming grief when, inevitably, I have to leave you there alone.

And yet the truth is, I need to.

I need to stand at your grave and take myself back to that hot summers day when I stood beside your Dad, my eyes never leaving your coffin, wondering how it could even be possible that my son, my baby, was in there so still. I need to remember the way in which your Dads arms shook from holding you for so long, how I had to swallow a feeling of hysteria that rose in my throat at the tears which pooled on the end of his nose, too scared to reach up and wipe them for fear that the sudden movement would bring me back to earth.

I need to remember the faces of our family and friends, the hushed cries and the flurry of tissues, the way that their eyes willed us to get through it, to hold it together for just a moment longer. I need to remember the warmth of the sun on my face, the feel of the grass beneath my feet, the words of the vicar which drifted in and out of my head, how every so often the sound of my own cries jolted me out of my daze. And I need to remember how Lewis had clung to your Grandparents hands, the way he had stood, so patiently holding a balloon, his little face lifted up to the skies, looking for the baby brother who never made it home.

There are days when I simply need to feel that pain, to cry those tears and feel that my heart is breaking, just to remind myself that I haven’t forgotten. I need to prove to myself that no matter how many years have passed, I still feel that pain just as strongly as I did right there in the moment, to comfort myself with the fact that I can remember it just like yesterday, that I haven’t forgotten even one precious moment of that time with you.

And perhaps subconsciously, having reached a point in my life where I have been trying so hard to accept the past and let go of that sadness, this is my way of clawing it back a little. To know that whilst I smile and laugh and thoroughly enjoy my life with your siblings, all of that heartache and anger and outright devastation that you never opened your eyes and took your first breath, is still right there.

Because I think that for those of us missing our babies, it’s always better to feel something, even when that something is sadness, than to feel nothing at all.

Today is nothing special. It’s just another Friday without you.

I miss you.

Love you always,

Mum

xxx

 

MummascribblesPink Pear Bear
Bridie By The Sea

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125 Comments

  2. This post breaks my heart, it is so beautiful. This is the truth of grief, isn’t it? It doesn’t have to be a special day to feel it. My heart goes out to you, you are so strong xx #stayclassymama

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  3. Absolutely heartbreaking and beautiful honey. Sending you so much love xxxx

    #stayclassymama

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    1. Thank you so much Fi, grief still takes me by surprise even 11 years on. Much love. xx

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  9. Oh Laura… you had my crying again. Such a beautiful post. This make my think of my sister. I know its not the same but I know what you mean. Big hugs Laura & stay strong. xxx #FabFridayPost

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    1. Ahh Su, much love to you. I think about you often and your sister, it’s such early days for you all. Huge hugs. xxx

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    2. Thank you Su. I think about you often, and your sister. It’s still such early days for you all. Huge hugs .xxx

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  11. Laura I’m sorry you’ve had an emotional one. It’s so crap! Its all so true what you speak. It’s always there and sometimes we have to feel it to be connected to them. I remember it all so well and still too wonder why. This was such a comfort about how they live on though their siblings… Reading things like this helps me be easier on myself when I grieve so thanks xx lots of love xx

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    1. Thank you Mary. Some days are tough aren’t they? Completely from nowhere, for no reason at all, but it always helps to write it down, have a good cry and start a new day afresh. Grief is such a strange emotion, almost 11 years later and I’m still learning as I go. Love to you as always Mary. xxx

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    1. I’m sorry I made you cry lovely, but you’re right. It never gets easier, I’m not sure it ever will. xxx

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  17. Stunning post as always Laura. I find days like these the hardest – the ones you can’t prepare for, the ones you aren’t expecting. The ones when no one else seems to feel it, or perhaps not even notice, because to the rest of the world time moves on; and whilst they don’t forget, they don’t feel it in the way I do.

    But as you say, I need days like these. It is in my deepest grief that I most feel my love for Findlay. I am afraid that there may come a day when it don’t feel the physical ache for him, when my body doesn’t shake from the tears pouring out of me. I am so scared of that, so this post gives me comfort.

    Like you, I find going to Findlay’s grave and tending his flowers very cathartic. For me, it is an essential part of how I parent the baby missing from my arms. To know it is well cared for, and filled with beauty, gives me comfort. I hope that, as Leo grows, he will share this time with me in the way Joseph’s brothers and sisters do.

    Sending you all lots of love and keeping Joseph always in my heart and thoughts.

    Reply

    1. Thank you Laura, and I am so sorry that you can relate to this. I felt exactly the same way in the early days, I hated that time was spiralling out of control and Joseph was becoming further and further away in my memories. I worried that a time would come when I would forget so much of it, but eleven years on and I remember the parts that matter. I may have forgotten parts, certain details that are now irrelevant but at one time I clung to for comfort. I remember HIM, and that is the main thing. We can never forget, they are a huge part of our families, and one day Leo will talk about Findlay in just the same way as mine talk about Joseph, and know that he has a very specially big brother who looks down from the sky. xxx

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  19. I’m so sorry for your loss. You’re not alone. They are never forgotten. (I know these are different circumstances) I wrote this recently because every so often I feel like I’m in the present moment as if they exist. It’s not constant but it’s a powerful feeling.Thinking of you. #PostsFromTheHeart

    You’re my rainbow baby but there’s no pot of gold,

    There is a reserved space for a story untold.

    An empty derelict home that nobody claims.

    Only I remember, the deed’s in my name.

    Sometimes I go back, knowing no work can be done,

    Helplessly drawn to view because I was their mum.

    We lived together, sharing everything inside,

    Then they split everything, when from inside they died.

    A baby died in me, leaving a dirty red.

    I remember this but face the rainbow instead.

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    1. Thank you for sharing this. I have four beautiful little rainbows and am so lucky in that way. Sorry for your loss. xxx

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  21. Your posts always hit me hard because I can feel how much you are hurting and it makes me sad. I know that Joseph would be proud of you for being as strong as you are and he would commend you for speaking out. While it might be true that you can mourn and celebrate him no matter where you are, you are right when you say that it is a form of catharsis visiting his grave. Sometimes you do need to allow yourself to feel the pain. Beautifully written x

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  22. Thank you so much Sadie. I really appreciate that. Grief is so strange how it hits you from nowhere, I think that will always be the case and it’s important to allow myself to grieve however I need to. xx

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  24. I read this with tears in my eyes, he will always be remembered with love and you can be proud of all you have achieved in his name

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  25. Heartbroken just reading this I can’t even begin to imagine what you feel now or felt at the time but I know I would be devastated. You also have to do what makes you feel comfortable and right and if that is visiting the grave then continue to do that. #Dreamteam

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    1. Thank you Lisa. It breaks my heart when I go down to visit Joseph and so many of the graves are overgrown and yet I totally understand that for so many people it is too hard to continue to go down there and relive the saddest of moments. I make no judgements about others in that way, I think we all have to do whatever it takes to survive. xxx

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  27. Oh I am in tears. You have such a gift for putting words to deep, intense, immeasurable feelings. Grief can hit at the strangest times – you don’t need to justify it by it being a special date or anniversary. Sometimes it just grabs you completely out of the blue, and that pain is so real and raw. #triumphanttales

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    1. Oh Lucy I am so sorry I made you cry but thank you so much for your lovely comment. You are so right, grief is such a personal thing and we have to deal with it in a way that is right for each of us. Eleven years on and I’m still learning, some days are just harder than others. xxx

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  29. I couldn’t work out for a second why my screen went blurry – until I realised I had tears in my eyes without even knowing it. Your writing is so beautiful and moving, it’s heartbreaking but impossible not to read. I’m so sorry that you lost your little boy all those years ago – I love your Instagram photos of your beautiful babies, I’m happy they bring such joy! #bigpinklink

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    1. Ahhh thank you so much for reading, even though I know that it can be heartbreaking to allow yourself to even imagine such a loss. I really do appreciate that, and it’s important to me to share my memories but also to share the truth that grief isn’t confined to anniversaries or special occasions. Sometimes the Friday mornings are the hardest, that’s the nature of grief. xxx

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  32. I am so very sorry for your loss. Thank you for sharing your heart through your beautiful writing! Hugs and prayers your way!

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  33. I am so sorry for your loss all those years ago. Continue to grieve how you feel you need to. This post made me cry. I cannot imagine what you went through and continue to go through. Thoughts are with you!

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    1. Ahh thank you Jessica, I really appreciate that. I always struggle as his birthday approaches. xxx

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  34. So heartbreaking but so beautifully written, I can understand feeling the pain and hurt can be better than feeling nothing. I know my circumstances are different but I spent so long trying to block things out and feeling numb after my miscarriages and ectopic and it wasn’t healthy. Letting the emotions through and feeling the hurt and having a good cry always helped. Sending hugs x
    #bigpinklink

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    1. Thank you Alana. I think you’re so right, I did the same with my own miscarriages, especially in the miscarriages I had after losing Joseph as I felt that my loss was not as great and it would be wrong of me to grieve in the same way? I regret that now, every loss is equally as heartbreaking and It’s so important to feel those emotions and go through that process in order to move forward. Love to you. xx

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  36. Oh Laura. I truly believe that Joseph is looking down your gorgeous family – seeing all the amazing adventures you have and he knows the reach of your love. He can see how many other people your gorgeous words help and comfort. He’ll be so proud of you, and all you do in his name. You truly are amazing.

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    1. Ahh Holly, thank you so much, I really appreciate you saying that. I only ever want to make him proud. xxx

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  37. Oh Laura! I really don’t have the words. I can’t even begin to imagine what you have been through and what you are still going through but there is something about the need to feel sadness rather than nothing that makes sense to me. I would say I hope you find peace soon but I think perhaps peace is not what you need at all. So instead I hope you find your own personal balance of feeling.
    Thank you for linking this really special read to #BigPinkLink

    Reply

    1. Thank you Kirsty, I appreciate that. I think that last year on what would have bee his 10th birthday I did find peace of sorts. We held a huge charity event and celebrated him for all he had achieved and the legacy he had left behind. I’m struggling a little this year somehow, he would have left school this July, been excited about joining Lewis at high school no doubt, it’s just those thoughts which are hard to think about sometimes. But I still want to think about them, and I still want to feel them, because that’s what makes it real for me? Grief is so difficult at times! xxx

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  40. Thank you Samantha. I have the most amazing family and they are a huge comfort to me. xxx

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  41. #triumphanttales i agree, its good to feel. It attaches you to a moment in time that however distressing or not…you are connected. I like going to my daughters grave, we often taken her a pebble or stick that have found on a dog walk. Sometimes we add new flowers. The bit that i do find upsetting is seeing new baby graves and knowing that others are in the club nobody ever signed up to join.

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    1. Oh I know, that breaks my heart. In the 11 years Joseph has been there I have lost count of the new graves that have been added, it really hits home just how often this happens and it feels desperately unfair. My children are the same, they take Joseph all sorts of sticks or leaves, things that mean nothing at all to us but everything to them. Much love to you. xx

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  42. Sending loads of hugs, this post is beautiful. I can understand why you still go, it’s important not to forget and with something like this it’s worth revisiting you are one strong lady though I don’t know if I could handle it. I admire your strength. Thanks so much for sharing with #StayClassyMama

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    1. Thank you so much. I’m not sure how much of it is strength or simply survival, but I’ve made it through almost 11 years now, I was hoping it would get easier but it never does, I’m not sure it ever will? xxx

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  43. I often wonder how you stay so upbeat hun after going through so much. You are truly inspirational and as I said on FB, I love how you remember Joseph everyday and not just on anniversaries. I think it’s easier for you and nicer that way. Hope you ok and thanks for sharing with #bestandworst x

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    1. Thank you so much Sarah, I really appreciate that. Joseph is a huge part of our lives and I find that a huge comfort. The children literally talk about him all the time, I couldn’t ask for more than that. xxx

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  45. If I’m crying reading this, goodness knows the tears you cried over the years. Do what you need to, not what people think you should or would do themselves. Sending lots of love. #Stayclassymama

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    1. Thank you Helen, I really appreciate that. I think it’s very easy for those who haven’t lost a child to give “well meaning” advice, but if it were their child I think they would feel very differently. Grief is so personal and I think you just have to do whatever it takes to survive it! xx

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  46. I can’t imagine the pain and sadness you have to deal with for losing a son however as you say, its better to feel something than nothing but focus on the positives and happiness he did bring to your life along with you other beautiful children, you have a beautiful family!

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    1. Thank you Freya, he brought us so much happiness and I have been so lucky to have four healthy children. Thank you for reading. xxx

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    1. Thank you Angela, that is all that anyone can say isn’t it? He was a very special little boy that’s for sure! xx

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  50. My heart goes out to you…. words are never enough and we can never fully grasp the pain and sweet memories of what could have been. I hold you up in love and prayers.

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  51. I’m sorry for your loss, no matter how long ago it is, I’m sure the pain must always be there. How incredibly brave of you to share your feelings with us all. Thank you x

    #PostsFromTheHeart

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    1. Thank you Tina. I always thought that “time would heal” as so many people told me it would. It hasn’t, not in the way I had hoped it to, but that’s okay. Joseph is a huge part of our family and I wouldn’t have it any other way. xx

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  54. Oh, Laura…I am crying my eyes out. I can`t imagine how strong you and your family must be. God always has a good plan for us all and we just need to believe in him. I am glad you find the power to write this and share it with us. Lots of love ♥ ♥ ♥

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  55. I am trying to remember the last time I read something and burst out sobbing. My husband is staring at me.

    Thanks for linking up to #globalblogging.

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    1. Ahh Kristin, bless you, I am so sorry that I made you cry. Thank you so much for reading. xxx

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  56. I cried reading your post. I could feel your pain, your longing for your son. The greatest pain any parent would ever go through is for them to bury their own child. My father died 25 years ago and I am telling you, it still hurts. I still go to the cemetery, and I still lay flowers on his grave. 25 years. 25 Christmases. 25 Father’s days. I talk to him everyday, and it gives me comfort to think he is not in pain anymore, and that he is in God’s loving care. One day, when I was at the cemetery, walked past a tomb marker and the inscription caught my attention. It was a tomb marker for a baby boy, and on it was written, “Ours for a while, God’s forever.”
    May you find peace and comfort in the thought that your son is alive in your heart forever.

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    1. Ahh thank you so much for such a lovely comment. I am so sad that you lost your Dad, it never gets easier does it? That inscription is beautiful, I think that you’re right, there is no pain like losing their child and I’m not sure it is something I can ever truly describe. Life can be very cruel, and I will never understand why our son couldn’t stay, but I am so proud of all we have achieved in his name. Love to you also. xxx

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  59. Such a heartbreaking, emotive, stunning post (as always). I just can’t bear to imagine the torture you go through, have been through. Sending so much love your way. Thanks for linking up with #TwinklyTuesday

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  60. In bits reading this, my son and first child Jack was stillborn in October last year at 41+3 weeks, we had tried for 6 long years for him, and after a perfect pregnancy I was convinced I would finally have our baby to bring home. Life came crashing down around us when we heard those words. It comforts me in a way knowing that regardless of the years that have passed he will always be in my thoughts. But the prospect right now of a lifetime without him is terrifying.

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    1. Oh lovely, I am so sorry to hear that. I remember those early days as if it was yesterday, and the fear that as time passed I would slowly forget the moments we shared and my memories would fade. They wont ever fade and nor will you ever forget, I promise you that. It never stops hurting but you will find ways to live with that pain and to find a way to go on. Sending you so much love and strength, and if you ever need a stranger to lean on, my in box is always open. xxx

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  61. I can appreciate why you keep going to Josephs grave. He is everywhere and with you all the time but that location is a little bit like the centre of your Earth.It may be upsetting each time you go but you would rather feel pain than that horrid numb feeling that paralyses your body on a day to day basis. Sending big hugs X
    #PostsFromTheHeart

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    1. Absolutely, it is exactly that. It’s why any of us visit the resting place of a loved one, we are drawn back to the last place we said goodbye. Thank you for reading. xx

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  62. Oh darling I had tears in my eyes whilst reading these the grief literally runs through your words. If I were in your position I think I would be doing exactly the same because he will always be a part of you and your family. Thanks for linking this up to #coolmumclub xoxo

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    1. Thank you Talya, it always helps me to get it all out in words. Thank you for reading. xx

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  63. Oh Laura. More tears from your beautiful writing. You are so brave and strong. Thank you for sharing this, it is beautiful. Sorry for the late comment, better late than never! Thanks for joining #TriumphantTales.

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