I haven’t blogged in 10 days – probably the longest time I’ve gone without blogging in a year.
I think it’s because I don’t know how I’m feeling, now that the first anniversary of Leah’s death has been and gone.
Now that it has been one full year since I have hugged and kissed my second born, much loved child, am I actually supposed to feel a little less sad?
One year on, is my heart supposed to feel a little less broken?
Or am I supposed to have developed coping skills that enable me to bear the pain of loss without, for example, bursting into tears at the sight of Leah’s favourite foods on promotion in the supermarket?
Despite the fact that Leah has been gone for a year now, sometimes I open the drawer laden with post transplant medication in her bedroom, gaze at the contents and wonder: “Did all of this really happen?”
Yet, at other times I feel strong. A friend whose husband had taken his own life when their children were small, used to tell me “When the worst thing that can ever happen to you has already happened, there’s nothing left to fear.”
Now I understand what she meant.
Although I’m often sad, I have a lot less fear than I once had.
If God can give me the strength to get through this, well then what is there left to fear?
We have also been so blessed with the support of family and friends along the way.
On Friday 16th January, the actual anniversary of Leah’s death, despite ice, snow and ungritted roads, we had 24 young people (mainly Leah’s school friends) at our house, to remember Leah with us.
We laughed, cried, chatted, sang some of Leah’s favourite worship songs, watched her “I Am Second” video, looked through her memory books, ate yummy food and played party games.
This was the third Friday in January, on previous years some of these girls used to come to our house on the third Friday in January for Leah’s birthday sleepover.
As the chatter of these young people filled our house, I thought about how fitting it was to remember our spiritual, fun loving, outgoing daughter in this way.
Then on Saturday 17th, my sister, her husband and three of her four adult children came to stay. It felt good to be surrounded by the love of family.
On Sunday 18th, we got together with my husband’s entire extended family for church, and lunch afterwards in my sister-in-law/brother-in-law’s house. Leah always loved these big family get togethers and so do I.
On Monday and Tuesday of this past week, my husband and I attended a Bereavement Programme, provided by Action Cancer.
We are certainly well supported by our friends, family, church and community.
For that we are really thankful, it all helps.
We still have to live without our daughter though, we still have to face the pain.
This song by Casting Crowns is a song that Leah and I used to listen to.
I’ve listened to it a lot since Leah died.
I find the words very comforting.
“Praise You In This Storm”
I was sure by now
God You would have reached down
And wiped our tears away
Stepped in and saved the day
But once again, I say “Amen”, and it’s still raining
As the thunder rolls
I barely hear Your whisper through the rain
“I’m with you”
And as Your mercy falls
I raise my hands and praise the God who gives
And takes away
[Chorus:]
And I’ll praise You in this storm
And I will lift my hands
For You are who You are
No matter where I am
And every tear I’ve cried
You hold in Your hand
You never left my side
And though my heart is torn
I will praise You in this storm
I remember when
I stumbled in the wind
You heard my cry to you
And you raised me up again
My strength is almost gone
How can I carry on
If I can’t find You
But as the thunder rolls
I barely hear You whisper through the rain
“I’m with you”
And as Your mercy falls
I raise my hands and praise the God who gives
And takes away
[Chorus]
I lift my eyes unto the hills
Where does my help come from?
My help comes from the Lord
The Maker of Heaven and Earth
My Journey: 