The week we just spent at Daisy Lodge as a family of five was truly amazing. We were waited on hand and foot and completely spoiled from we arrived until we left. Our large family room was absolutely beautiful, with patio doors opening onto a veranda overlooking Tollymore Forest Park.
The food was better than any hotel, very plentiful and always served with a smile.
Nothing was too much trouble. Staff were on hand 24/7 to support families in whatever way was needed. There were family activities available every day, either at Daisy Lodge or in Newcastle, door to door transport was provided when required. These are copper pictures that our family made in a group activity during the week:
Spending a week in the company of other bereaved families was also beneficial. We could laugh or we could cry, no explanation was ever needed.
I feel like we were emotionally and physically nurtured.
Coming home again was a different matter entirely though.
We went via Belfast. Our eldest daughter will be resuming her university education this autumn and we went to see her new accommodation. It’s lovely.
Then we cut across the Boucher Road to head onto the West Link via the same roundabout with the big silver ball that I negotiated every Friday when I took Leah to her outpatients appointment at Belfast City Hospital.
Silently I recalled being blue lighted around this roundabout with Leah on Thursday 16th January ’14 on our way to the N.I. Children’s Hospice. I write here about how Leah died in the Children’s Hospice, surrounded by love.
I hadn’t verbalised my thoughts, I hadn’t uttered a word, but a few minutes later my husband pointed out the outline of the hospice to me, over to our right, above the motorway. I could feel my grief and loss like a physical pain in my chest.
As we got nearer home after our week away, it somehow felt to me like the day we returned home from the hospice on the day that Leah died, when I hadn’t been home for two and a half weeks. I could feel that same emptiness in my heart.
Initially after arriving home yesterday I busied myself with routine tasks. Then eventually I faced Leah’s empty bedroom. I needed to see her empty wardrobe, to prove to myself once again that my daughter was gone and never coming back.
On walking back up the hall from Leah’s room, I glanced into another room and caught sight of a pair of Leah’s old Babycham trainers, worn to within an inch of their life. She kept them for rough wear to run about outside in. They were just sitting there, mocking me, as if any minute Leah might walk through the door and put them on.
I had a desperate urge to scream at my husband to come and lift them and put them somewhere that I couldn’t see them ………… but I never uttered a word.
It’s enough for me to be upset, without distressing everyone else unnecessarily.
Instead I went upstairs to where I keep Leah’s bear hat beside my bed. I buried my face in her wee hat and inhaled my daughters scent.
There I cried my tears of loss and grief.
For cry I must, because grief has no shortcuts.
The Bible says that God records our tears and preserves them in a bottle – I think some of us must have crates of those bottles stacked up in heaven – like a whole load of milk crates!
Something else I know, is that I have One who walks with me and that He is the friend who walks closer than a brother Proverbs 18:24. His grace is sufficient for my every need, 2 Corinthians 12:9.
Grace – how I love that word – His grace is not the light at the end of my tunnel; it’s the light that will guide me through this tunnel.
How sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like me
I once was lost, but now I’m found
Was blind, but now I see”
Leah and I loved listening to the modern rendering of “Amazing Grace” by Chris Tomlin. I first heard this version when it was the backing track for the film Amazing Grace which was released in 2007. This film tells the story of William Wilberforce and the abolition of slavery. Leah watched this film in the cinema when she was 10 years old and she loved it. She then bought the DVD as a gift for her brother and watched it again.
The City of Bristol earned it’s wealth from the slave trade. The abolitionist movement subsequently became very active there. While we were in Bristol, Leah and I snuggled up in bed together and once again watched the Amazing Grace DVD. We were inspired by the tenacity and courage of William Wilberforce.