I was going through my 11 year old daughter’s paper work from her past school year today and I found this. I asked her permission to publish it on my blog.
I also came across several instances where she had to write about her family. In each instance she included Leah and said that she had three siblings. I thought that all of that was so beautiful and I felt so proud of her.
Adults have told me of instances where children they knew had died years ago and their names were no longer mentioned. I’m so glad that our youngest is comfortable talking and writing about her sister who loved her so very much.
I also know from talking to other people, that in years gone by, children were shielded and “protected” from the so-called unpleasant realities of life. This was sometimes done by sending children away to stay with a relative when there was serious illness or death in the house.
Some adults who experienced this as children have told me that they found being excluded from what was happening, a hugely traumatic experience, as they were denied the opportunity of being able to process what was happening and of being able to say goodbye to their loved one. They then found it extremely difficult to work their way through the stages of grief and it compounded their distress.
I never knew that our story was going to end like this and I certainly didn’t have any time to work out a “game plan” for the best way to do things. However, a combination of divine inspiration and mother’s intuition, led me to involve all of our children in Leah’s journey as much as possible.
When we received that first phone call with Leah’s diagnosis on April 19th 2013, the consultant in Belfast suggested “tissue typing” our other two teenage children but not our youngest, who was only nine at the time. I immediate disagreed with him and told him “you can’t make a difference in our children“.
When I got off the phone and discussed it with our youngest, she demonstrated a mature understanding of the situation and said that she wanted to be part of whatever was needed to save Leah’s life.
She also accompanied Leah on one of her appointments to the Sperrin Oncology/Haematology Unit in Altnagelvin Hospital in early July, past the sign that reads “No Children Allowed.” Technically speaking Leah was also still a child herself.
In early June when I received a telephone call with a summons to Bristol for an Outpatients Appointment for Leah and Simon, I instinctively asked on the phone if we could bring our youngest with us. I was told that it would be no problem, as there would be a Play Therapist there to keep her amused.
It was so important for her to see firsthand what a lovely “child friendly” hospital that Leah would be having her treatment in. The lively presence of our youngest on this trip, lifted all of our spirits too, as she was the only one who hadn’t sat through a depressing discussion of Leah’s diagnosis and prognosis.
On the 21st July 2013, our youngest flew to Bristol with Leah and me. On Monday morning the 22nd July, our youngest said goodbye to Leah and me at the door of the Bone Marrow Transplant Unit. It was only meant to be a temporary goodbye, as Leah expected to just get a test dose of chemotherapy and be back out again within hours. However she very quickly developed severe septicaemia and became very seriously ill.
The first day, Leah and her younger sister had great fun together, using the recreational facilities at Sam’s House. By the last day Leah was starting to become unwell and she had a lot less energy.
Our youngest and her dad visited again in October, when Leah was very unwell. Leah was overjoyed to see them both. She wasn’t well enough to leave the hospital, but they did girlie things together in Leah’s hospital room, like painting each other’s nails. Our youngest also helped me to shop for treats for Leah, while her Dad kept Leah company.
Once Leah and I finally got home in November, Leah and her younger sister became inseparable. Every day when she got off the school bus, she headed straight for Leah’s bedroom and there she remained until I chased her off to bed.
One weekend, for a special treat, our youngest was allowed to have a sleepover with Leah. Leah’s immune system was very weak, so I was of course very particular about ensuring that her younger sister adhered to strict standards of hygiene.
On Leah’s last evening at home, Thursday 26th December 2013, Leah cooked a cheese omelette for herself and her younger sister. Then they played together on Leah’s new WiiU. Their laughter rang out through the house.
I write here about how Leah pleaded in ICU for younger sister to be allowed in to visit her. I still feel sad about that.
A few months after Leah died, her younger sister was given the opportunity of attending an Art Therapy group for children dealing with loss, at the ETHOS Family Support Hub in Shantallow.
She doesn’t like talking about her feelings, but she loves arts and crafts.
Attending this group seemed to help her to find a way of expressing her love for her sister through arts and crafts. After attending this group, she started printing off lots of photos of her sister and making up collages of these photos for her bedroom walls.
I’m glad that she’s found a way of expressing herself that she feels comfortable with.