Tuesday, 17 March 2015

To My Darling Angel Clinty - 8 Years

"To My Darling Clinty

This is what I would be saying to you if I had the chance to speak to you, but then again if I had the chance to speak to you, I would not be saying this, because the 16th would not be of any significance to us. It is 5 am and I survived another year without you - eight years, yet it seems like yesterday that I last spoke to you, held you and looked at you. Yet at other times, it seems like a whole life time of pain and grief. Eight years saw you going from a newborn baby to your second year in primary school. So much happened in those eight years - eight years is a long time and I survived these eight years. I don't know how I did, but yes I am still alive and I did not think I would be saying my child died a year ago or two years ago and now it is eight years. Eight years from baby to school boy.

Baby Clinty

Baby Chad,My Niece, Clint in The Middle & a Friend

As if life is not devastating enough, I had to get the days muddled up. I thought the 16th was today (Tuesday). I did not forget, but for as long as I can remember I believed that the 16th was on a Tuesday. I never check the calendar I just know what date it is on. Even with our discussion on Sunday night about buying flowers when Mark asked if I was buying flowers "tomorrow" I was annoyed and said it is not tomorrow - he ALWAYS gets dates and days muddled up, no matter what they are. He did not even argue and we did not pursue the conversation. I woke up yesterday morning feeling drained and could barely get out of bed, but I dragged myself up, dragged myself through my morning rituals and dragged myself to work with a heavy heart. I was at work for about 30 minutes and not once from when I woke up throughout checking the time, switching on computers did I see the date. Then all of a sudden it was like the computer screen was screaming at me as I looked for the umpteenth time and saw the date was the 16th, within seconds I received a message from Jennifer. It was like someone was forcing me to look at the date and see that "tomorrow" was not the 16th. It is as if you were saying 'hey mom look at the date before this lady thinks you are totally wacked when you tell her it is not today.'

I don't know if it was to teach me a lesson that with all the love and good intentions, our brains can get confused and not forget the actual date, but muddle up the day the date falls on, like my birthday this year. It is not like I woke up yesterday morning and thought it was the 15th, I just knew, or thought I knew that the 16th was on a Tuesday, which is really stupid, because last year it was on a Sunday and I would have to really think about it if it was leap year, which it was not. The mistake steamrollered me and I am still trying to recover from it and I am so so very sorry Clint that I could get it all muddled up. I don't know if it was to teach me a lesson or which lesson or if I am just completely losing it or perhaps I would not have pulled myself out of the deep dark pit I was in on Saturday or if it was just to get me going on Monday morning, but it was a tough one, a really tough one. My head was about to explode in anger at everyone at my computer, my laptop everything in sight, my chest was tight and felt like a pressure cooker and strange as this may sound a voice in my head said write Clinton a letter and tell him how you feel. I grabbed a pen and the note papers in my animal cruelty diary and just wrote and wrote, pages and pages of exactly how I felt and told you every little thing that I felt. The anger, the hurt; the guilt; the love and everything else and when I was finished the indent in the rest of the pages was evidence of the depth of my anger. I put the letter in your Memorial Garden, as close to you and your memory I could get. I managed to get through the rest of the day with a lot less anger and guilt.

Even when I received a message from school that the students had to dress in green for St Patrick's day on the 17th, I thought Wednesday. Well Chad did not dress up for St Patrick's Day, nothing unusual - that is something you both have in common - not getting dressed up for school events in high school. We always forgot, so that hasn't changed or you both just were not into it

You may be wondering why after 8 years I still do not have a proper memorial plaque for your garden and hard as it is to believe, procrastination has nothing to do with it. I just can't do it. Getting a plaque made will be confirmation that I have accepted your death and made peace with it - I haven't and I never will. The rock was a temporary measure, put there by the landscaper, whilst he waited for me to tell him where the ashes were going to go. I don't even think the ashes were ever going to go into your Memorial Garden, I think the Landscaper just assumed that is why we were doing the garden. One day I will scatter your ashes, one day when I have found the perfect spot, but that will never be, because when I scatter them I will be accepting your death and I won't accept your death ever.

Added to the devastation of your death is the fact that we stopped taking photos and when we did take them, I never printed them or downloaded them and cameras broke or where stolen and I have no photos of you when you were older and I hate myself for not taking photos. I have so many of when you were little and then life just got in the way of taking photos and now I nag Chad about not taking photos, sadly I passed my dislike of having my photo taken onto you and Chad. I wish I hadn't and now we just have hundreds of photos of the places we went to and none of you.

I packed up most of the stuff in your room in December when we went away. I did not know what to do about your room and how to keep your stuff safe from prying eyes and hands when the housesitter stayed there when we went away. I did not know whether to lock your door and make it obvious that I did not trust them or to trust them and leave your door unlocked. Chad reminded me of how terribly devastating it was when they broke into our house in January 2010, saw a locked door and assumed there were valuables in the only locked door in the house and kicked your door in and imagine someone breaks in when we are away and does it again. So I packed your stuff in your cupboard and locked it and it is still all in your cupboard - partly procrastination and partly we need to paint your room and I also don't know what I am ever going to do with your stuff. I just cannot give it away, but sometimes logic creeps in and I wonder what I am keeping it all for. I wonder if you would still want all that stuff if you were alive. I know you hated throwing anything out and that's why I have kept every last little thing.

I am at work now as there was not enough time to finish typing what was on my mind this morning. The pain in my chest is still there, getting tighter and tighter. My throat closed and hoarse, like I have been running a marathon. The pain caused by grief is real, the heart pain caused by grief is real and all the aggravation of everyday life just added to it and today I am feeling worse than I did yesterday and just feel like running far far away -  running away from myself and my pain.

I miss you so much my Angel and now I have to find joy in flowers and plants were the joy should have been in being with you. 

I love and miss you so much Clinty

Clint & Chad & Mark On Chad's Birthday

With all my love

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