You Raise Me Up

It's that time of year again, where I struggle beyond where words can express.

Saturday morning, I had a complete and utter breakdown. It had been building for some time, and it just poured out. I actually felt suicidal. It wasn't just because of the boys, there was other things as well. I won't go into detail as it was just a culmination of life in general.

A couple of weeks ago, I went to a mediumship event and was a member of the audience. My boys came through. Some people are skeptical, some people are believers and there are those who sit on the fence. My word, she knew things, no one would have known. I drew a lot of comfort from that and I still smile at the thought of it.

But then the build up happens and life because unbearably shit. I did a post on my personal Facebook page about how I was struggling. I don't do this for sympathy or people to send love. I do it so they realise I am struggling and the reason I am not wanting to meet up or go out is because actually, every day is an effort of going through the motions. It's so difficult to explain the feelings of the build up and you will only truly understand if you are a bereaved parent. Talking to a good friend today about clock watching, and the minute the clock hits that significant time, it feels like the weight has been lifted. It's so true.

This weekend, we had the opportunity to attend a memorial event. We didn't make the one last year as we were going on holiday so this was our first time. It was exclusively for bereaved families; a chance for us all to just feel at ease. There was an invisible cord that connected each and every one of us. We all knew the pain, the tears, the heartache. We all understood when no words needed to be spoken.

The lead person said when he was asked to do the event, two words popped into his head, and he couldn't shake them.

The first was recognition.

The event was a chance for us all to be on a social level of acceptance. There was no pity looks when you mentioned your child has died, there was no awkward silences. There was love. There was a time for remembrance, reflection and recognition. Our babies are here. Some of them, their feet didn't touch the earth but left imprints on our hearts.

The second word was celebration.

My ears pricked at this as it wasn't a word I thought of. We were there to celebrate the lives of these precious Angels and all that was and continues to be, achieved in their name.

It made me think about my own personal journey and how far I have come. He will be 6 in 9 days time. I'm still grieving, I'm still angry, I'm still desolate.

But I have never celebrated either of their lives and their everlasting imprints.

Eldest changed me, the minute he was fighting for his life, I was the lioness protecting her cub. I was his voice, I was his strength. I gave him all my strength so that he could fight to come home. He became my world. A world different to life with a healthy child. His death broke me. Shattered me into a tiny million pieces. Every day, I am picking up another piece and putting it back together (in me) like I have been for the last 2041 days.

Two things happened in the darkest days following his death; I found a part of me that dug deep to help others. And I found out I was pregnant.

But again, the events surrounding his life and death, shattered me into a billion pieces.

I have lost myself in a world of grief, desolation, loneliness, heartache, confusion, and resurrection.

I almost feel like Jesus, rising from the dead again, (no blasphemy intended) or a Phoenix from the ashes.


I feel like I'm confusing you. Imagine one of those 3d puzzles; carefully constructed. Then, one day, something drops down and crashes into it, sending all the pieces into a million different directions. You then look for the pieces and begin to put the puzzle back together when another drop sends the pieces even further afield. And you have spent the last 1900 days trying to put all those pieces back.


Those pieces are pieces of me.


So what have I celebrated? As in truly celebrated, when it comes to them??


▫️ a fundraising body, dedicated in their names

▫️ them

▫️ their imprint on the world and me

▫️ the fact that they continue to link their invisible cord

Celebrate that I am still here because I need to continue picking up the pieces; I need to sort through all of them to figure out if it is the right piece for that time.

Celebrate the person they made me.

Celebrate the love I have.

Celebrate that I can look back down the path and know they are still standing by me.

Celebrate being their mummy.

I think I've just put a massive piece of my puzzle back together.

At the end of the service, the brass band played Westlife's "You Raise Me Up". Truth be told, I love a bit of Westlife but like everyone standing there, the lyrics flowed through my mind and matched feelings I never knew that were there.

The lyrics could be applied to their short lives, to their deaths, to how their deaths continue to implicate our world.

"You raise me up to be more than I can be"