Catching Wishes

These last few weeks of summer the girls have been catching wishes. You know those floaty, spindly spheres that dance away from you as soon as you reach out to grab one. Yes, those. If my five and three-year-old can’t catch them I run, jump and grab upwards or stamp down upon them like a slightly geriatric child just so my girls can have those eyes-tight-shut-with-hopeful-whisperings kind of moments that I remember doing too. Where I wished for hair as long as Claire Jenkins, my girls wishes are much more poignant but are just as likely to not happen.

*****

Evie: “Mummy, if we wish really, really hard can we get daddy to come back.”

Me: “No, darling. A wish can’t ever bring daddy back. Remember I told you his body was broken and we said goodbye to it and daddy’s energy and spirit is all around us…”

Evie: “Yes I know but can Santa not even fix it so daddy can come back.”

Me: “I am so sorry honey. He can’t come back.”

Evie: “Well then can I wish for a new daddy.”

Me: “Well yes but you know Cameron is here not to be your daddy but he can be a bit like a daddy.”

Evie: “Yes that’s OK but can Isla and I have a daddy that doesn’t have any other children. A daddy just for us.”

*****

Isla: “I miss daddy. I want him back.”

Me: “I know honey. I wish you could have him back but I’m here.”

Isla: “But I want his cuddles.”

Me: “I know me too. But you’re lucky. You’re daddy is special because other daddies only get to see their little girls after school or nursery or after work. Your daddy watches over you all the time. And while he was here your daddy gave me so many cuddles that I can pass some of them to you.”

Isla: “And his kisses?”

Me: “Yes darling. Kisses too.”

Our sweet girls, Col. If only those spindly floaty wish things could make wishes come true…I wish that these were not the types of conversations I shared with my little girls at bedtime and that you could kiss and cuddle them in the flesh. I just wish.

 

Healing Myself

I had a comment on my last post saying that they didn’t really understand my blog and why I wrote it. It has made me think. I started this blog for a reason. It was and continues to be my therapy. If it could help people close to me understand me then good. If it reached out to others suffering similar. Great.

In the early weeks after Colin died I was looking for any fix possible to make life more livable again. My grief and pain were so sore I could barely breathe for that awful black knot in my chest. I was breastfeeding Isla so the GP couldn’t numb me with drugs. I was given mild sleeping pills so I could find a few hours respite in every 24 hours just to keep me going until the next living nightmare of a day. I asked for a referral to a grief councillor. Anything, anything, anything that might help me. I got one. I did the therapy. I think went about six or seven times. I sat talking to a lovely woman at the aptly Continue reading “Healing Myself”