[This blog was taken from notes I’d written whilst sat with Abi at the cemetery around 10th June 2013.]
Four months on, is that right? Have I grieved? Have I even started…?
What is the point of all that crying if at the end I still feel such deep and painful sorrow? Crying usually releases a tension, helps me feel better. But these tears are different; they flow easily enough but the emotion changes from despair and hurt, to sadness and depression. I suppose, if I didn’t feel able to cry, rant, write or talk then I’d be in a very bad place by now. So, to grieve must be to let my emotions surface as I mourn my darling child, but it feels like that is all it is. There seems to be no benefit, no end to it. Yet, even still, I can see that recently I have been able to laugh sometimes, though not as sincerely as before; I can converse, can think, can function apparently normally.
We’ve been catching up with the comedy series, Rev.
If you’ve not seen it before, the BBC series revolves around a Church of England priest called Adam, played by the talented and watchable Tom Hollander, who becomes the vicar of an inner-city London church after leaving a small rural Suffolk parish.
Last night, we watched an episode where the local church school is up for religious inspection and the headteacher, Ellie, is confident that they will pass with flying colours, thanks to the inspiring new teacher Mr Feld. The only problem for Adam is… he’s an atheist (albeit an ‘angry’ but popular and cool one).
The note about what to write in a card to a grieving person in my last post seemed to strike a cord with some readers. Some recognised the uncertainty of what to do for the best, others realised they’d never considered how this simple gesture could be interpreted by the recipient, others recalled past occasions when they felt they should have perhaps done it differently. So, I wanted to focus a little more on this.
A month ago, our eldest daughter died. I still struggle to type those words, let alone comprehend them… Abigail’s story, however, is so inspiring and heartbreaking that it should be recorded for others to read and share. It may offer comfort to some, support to others, and therapy for me, who knows…?