Grief Creeps Up When You’re Least Expecting It

“Leah, the windscreen of the bus is all misted over, how can the driver see out?” there was panic in my voice. Leah looked at me and burst out laughing.

“Mummy, this is a double decker bus and we are upstairs” she barely managed to get the words out through her giggles.

I was laughing now too.

It was the Summer of 2013 and we were on our way back from one of Leah’s many hospital appointments in Belfast, a 140 mile round trip. I hadn’t yet conquered my fear of driving in Belfast, so we travelled to most of our appointments by bus, although sometimes we were transported by kind friends.

We enjoyed those bus journeys together, they’re precious memories now.

Today I’m travelling to Belfast for a one day training course.

Just like I used to do with Leah, I left my car in the ‘Park and Ride‘ in Drumahoe, crossed the road and stood waiting on the bus.

It’s a wet morning and when the double decker bus arrived, I inadvertently looked up and caught sight of the upstairs front window, all steamed up.

Once again, I could hear Leah laughing at my confusion. Suddenly, my grief was as fresh as if she had died only yesterday.

That’s what grief does – it creeps up on you when you’re least expecting it.

One minute you’re just fine, the next minute something totally unforeseen has knocked the scab off the wound of grief and you’re left raw and bleeding.

Fortunately there isn’t many people on the bus, probably because it’s Good Friday, so I found myself a quiet spot at the back where I could grieve quietly, away from enquiring eyes.

Thankfully I always carry earphones with me, so that I can connect myself to the music that applies a balm to my soul.

This week I’ve been listening to “No Longer Slaves” by Bethel Music, it’s another song that I learned at the Passion 2015 Conference at Green Pastures Church a few weeks ago.

“No Longer Slaves”

You unravel me, with a melody
You surround me with a song
Of deliverance, from my enemies
Till all my fears are gone
I’m no longer a slave to fear
I am a child of God

From my mothers womb
You have chosen me
Love has called my name
I’ve been born again, into your family
Your blood flows through my veins

You split the sea
So I could walk right through it
All my fears were drowned in perfect love
You rescued me
So I could stand and sing
I am a child of God

Wave after Wave Crashes over Me

I think Leah had just given Simon this book for his birthday. From a young age Leah put a lot of thought and effort into choosing gifts for family and friends.

The waves of grief are never far away.

Our teenage son has been unwell for a week so I took him to the GP today.

He’s almost 16 but he wanted me to do most of the talking.

The GP asked if being unwell had woken him up during the night. I explained that he’s a very deep sleeper and in the past when he’s been sick during the night it was never him who woke up it was………..

I couldn’t finish the sentence, I felt overwhelmed with emotion and memories.

Simon and Leah shared a bedroom until their early teens.  Every time Simon was sick during the night it was Leah who got out of bed and came and called me.

2004 – It wasn’t always this cosy and they seldom shared a bed. Simon slept in the top bunk and Leah slept in the bottom bunk. We draped pretty curtains around her bed as she got older, to try and give her some privacy.

After leaving the GP surgery, I had to go to the chemist for a prescription and I just about held it together. Thankfully I didn’t meet anybody that I needed to speak to.

So many memories came flooding back of Leah padding into our bedroom in the middle of the night and quietly telling me “Mummy, Simon’s being sick.”

In the car on the way home Simon asked me why I was shaking my head. I hadn’t actually realised that I was doing this, but I was unconsciously  trying to empty my head of the realisation that our daughter would never again pad her way to her parent’s bedroom in the middle of the night, to tell us that her brother was being sick.

I asked Simon today when had they stopped sharing a bedroom and he replied “I can’t remember – whenever Leah got fed up of me being sick during the night!”

With all that happened with Leah in 2013 I had actually forgotten all about those episodes – until today.

Simon is now being treated for Helicobacter pylori for the second time. The first time was three years ago when he was 12. He had been unwell for months beforehand but he was like a new boy once he got the 7 day triple therapy into him, so hopefully it will work equally well this time.

He struggles with tablets so prefers to take medicine in liquid form.

The waves of grief, they crash over me, wave after wave.

Sometimes there’s bigger gaps between the waves, sometimes there’s lesser gaps.

As I reflected upon this I remembered the words of

You Make Me Brave by Bethel Music:

I stand before You now
The greatness of Your renown
I have heard of the majesty and wonder of You
King of Heaven in humility, I bow

As Your love
In wave after wave
Crashes over me, crashes over me
For You are for us
You are not against us
Champion of Heaven
You’ve made a way
For all to enter in

I have heard You call my name
I have heard the song of love that You sing
So, I will let You draw me beyond the shore
Into Your grace, Your grace

As Your love
In wave after wave
Crashes over me, crashes over me
For You are for us
You are not against us
Champion of Heaven
You’ve made a way
For all to enter in

You make me brave
You make me brave
You called me beyond the shore
Into the waves

You make me brave
You make me brave
No fear can hinder now
The love that made a way

The Storm of Grief

“When deep in the storm of grief, your faith is just like breathing, its the only thing that keeps you going.”

This morning I received a private message from a dear friend containing these words – I gasped and burst into tears because of how true these words are and because of how much I needed to hear those beautiful words at that precise moment.
Living with Leah’s illness was like being on a roller coaster that ducked and dived unpredictably and at high speed.
Living with grief is like being at sea in a sailing ship. There are times when that ship docks in pleasant places and for a few hours I can smile and laugh and enjoy the company of others. Then the ship sets sail on the high seas once more.
I can never tell when a storm of grief will arise or from what direction, but suddenly and at times with little warning, my ship is engulfed. In those times it’s tempting to ask “Will I ever see the shore again?” or “How many storms can a ship withstand?” 

Sometimes I get by with the help of a useful phrase from another dear friend “Right foot, left foot, breathe.” – I find it a useful one for when I am physically in a place that I find emotionally difficult, such as walking down long corridors on hospital visits or when I’m in Tesco’s and Leah’s favourite snack is being promoted on special offer. It enables me to get back to my car or to some other private place – like the disabled toilets – before I have to give full vent to my emotions.
I discovered the song “It Is Well” by Bethel Music from their “You Make Me Brave” album last week. It has remained on “repeat song” mode on my phone ever since as it’s words just speak to me so very deeply:

“Through it all, through it all
My eyes are on You
Through it all, through it all
It is well
So let go my soul and trust in Him
The waves and wind still know His name”