Ryan

Imagine someone has opened your chest with clawed hands,

grabbed your heart in a crushing grip and torn it from your body.

But you do not die. You remain alive, in agony.

Agony that will continue for days,weeks, months and years.

This is what it feels like when your child dies.

This is how I felt when my son Ryan died,

age two years.

To hold the limp body of my precious child in my arms and feel its emptiness was pain that defies words.

I sat cradling my beautiful child,

knowing that I would never again see his smile,

hear his laugh or feel his hand clinging to mine.

I would never again hold his warm body close and breathe in the scent of his hair.

I would never know the person he would have grown up to be.

I walked from the room knowing that I had seen and held my child for the last time ever.

I wondered why I still lived,

and how I was supposed to keep going.

I wanted to die; I wasn't suicidal - it's just that the only way to end my pain was death,

and I ached to hold him in my arms again.

Never again will I feel 'whole'.

My whole future is tarnished by the loss of my son.

A part of me went with him,

and a gaping hole exists that his warm presence once filled.

I asked questions that no one could answer;

Why did he die?

Why not me instead?

Death has struck close to me once -what if it happens again?

What do I do now?

How will I manage?

Why am I still here?

I rode an emotional roller coaster.

One moment I felt I was managing well -the next I was curled up in a corner pleading with God to take me,

right now.

I went for long periods where I did well and thought,"Okay, I've accepted it."

Then out of the blue, it hit me anew -"He's dead. God, he's really dead."

And I began a new round of grieving.

Gradually, I found that the lows weren't quite as low as the previous ones,

and that I rose from them quicker.

Then just when I thought I was cruising on a level piece of track,

it dropped out from under me yet again.

I did this over and over and over,

but living with it gradually became easier,

and I even found that I could live a 'normal' life again,

although it was a new normality.

I will never forget Ryan.

He will live forever in my heart and in my memories.

Death makes him no less a part of our family.

Living with the fact that my child has died does not mean forgetting.

It means knowing and accepting that he is gone,

but still holding close those precious memories.

It means that my love for him does not change,

but that I don't allow my grief for his death to over-rule my life forever.

It's about remembering that Ryan would not expect nor want me to spend the rest of my life in misery.

My new normality is not necessarily an unhappy one.

Ryan's life and death is part of what makes me who I am.

It has had an immense impact on the way I look at life,

and although I wish he was still here,

I know that I have grown from my experience.

Ryan’s official date of death is the 22nd December, 2007,

the day he was taken off life support,

but I tend to think of the real date of his death as the 21st  December, 2007,

the day he drowned.

Even though his heart had been started again,he was gone.

As I write this, it's the 24th October, 2010;

The night before Ryan’s 5th birthday.

I wonder what he would look like now,

and imagine him playing with his siblings,

even as I sit here writing about his death.

We tend to celebrate his birthday rather than his death-day.

To us it's more important that he was born than that he died.

We choose to celebrate his life,

not his death.

It means more to us

that he was here

than that he left.

Remember?

Always.

Love?

Eternally.

Forget?

Never.

Five Stages of Grief

When someone near and dear to you has died,
And suffered loss has come to lay you low,
At first the fatal fact will be denied,
And you’ll have trouble trying to let go.
You won’t accept it’s happening to you,
And tell yourself the bad news isn’t true.
You’ll listen for the phone and watch the door,
Then wait for them to walk in like before.
And stubbornly will block and not believe
Your missing mate has fled forevermore-
For that's what humans do when left to grieve.

Then you will start to seethe deep down inside,
And raging anger will begin to grow.
You’ll curse the cross of Christ and fiery-eyed
Will lash out at the Lord who hurt you so.
You’ll shake your fist like pissed off people do,
And boil just like some bitter witch's brew.
Some days you’ll feel like waging all out war
Against the hurtful world and deeply sore,
Might even hate your dear who dared to leave,
And left your hurting heart cut to the core-
For that's what humans do when left to grieve.

Then when resentful rage starts to subside,
You will begin with bargaining as though
By begging God each night by your bedside,
You can bring back your love who lies below.
While wishing all your sorrows would be through,
Along with dark remorse you deeply rue,
You’ll promise to be true to words you swore,
And praying to the Lord will ask him for
Some peaceful respite and a sweet reprieve
From pain like Poe felt for his lost Lenore-
For that's what humans do when left to grieve.

Then there will be dark days you’ll want to hide,
When glum depression robs your rosy glow,
And filled with awful thoughts of suicide,
You’ll want to end your weeping world of woe.
Then melancholy clouds of hopeless hue
Will block the sun and blanket you in blue,
And leave you lying flat out on the floor,
Where you won’t feel like living anymore
Without the one you used to closely cleave
Upon pale pillows wet with tears you pour-
For that's what humans do when left to grieve.

Then following the flood your eyes have cried,
There comes a time your mind takes on a slow
Acceptance of the fact your friend or child,
Or husband won’t be back as you well know.
And once your weary eyes start seeing through
The clearing clouds and have a brighter view,
Then lovely life will bid you live once more
In honor of your dear you still adore,
Who speaks to you each time you touch the sleeve
Of closet clothes your lost love warmly wore-
For that's what humans do when left to grieve.

Then once your heart has healed and opens to
The living light and you can breathe anew,
Your past pains will become a precious store
Of gem-like memories of your amour,
Whose everlasting love you still receive
Like scented letters from the other shore-
For that's what humans do when left to grieve

It's nearly June...

It's nearly June....

Ryan is occupying my thoughts more and more lately.  I mean, I'm not saying that he doesn't occupy my mind a lot of the time, but lately, they are more persistent.  Usually I feel I have some control over my thoughts.  Something triggers a memory and I can savour the moment briefly, tears may come to my eyes but I can privately ebb back to reality without anyone noticing Ryan visited.  Now though....I feel I've lost that control.  I can't really pinpoint why though.  Admittedly, it's been a hectic and stressful time the last few weeks.  Not to mention having a man collapse in front of me and having to perform CPR - something I never wanted to have to do again.  That knocked me off my feet - but only for a few days. 

I guess the real issue is how Ryan is occupying my mind.  Up till now, it has always been memories - past treasured moments. Now though, it's the future Ryan will never have....

Next year, only 7 months away now, Ryan would have been commencing Prep.  He would have been going to the same school as his sister, the same place where I teach.  Next term, I would have been readying myself.  Purchasing uniforms, books, stationary....everything he needed.  His best mate Shane will be starting Prep.....it will be hard to watch, hard to share his mother's pride and joy.

I feel cheated.  I feel Ryan's been cheated.  He would have loved school and I know his sister would have loved sharing school with him.  I won't get to see him enjoying the Easter bonnet parade, I won't get numerous pieces of artwork to put on the fridge...oh it's so heart wrenching.

I try hard not to let myself wallow in the depths of despair.  I know I must be kind to myself and I know I still have two beautiful children who fill my life with much joy and love.  But sometimes.....the darkness comes and it doesn't matter how bright those stars are shining.

It's nearly June....

Three Leaf Clovers

Watching the seconds pass by.




Tick. Tick. Tick.



Listening to the rainfall.



Drip. Drip. Drip.



I love how the sounds play inside my mind


as if they're a soft melody, a sad song.



& the tune keeps repeating,


over and over again.






I lie awake






drawing your name on the ceiling,


using nothing more than the tip of my finger


and imaginary ink.


I move it in every direction


painting countless pictures,


images only I can see.






My world feels so cold, so empty,


I miss your warm cuddles, your giggle.






I just can't stop whispering,


can't stop talking to myself.


"Let me go, I beg you let me be."






Hundreds of thoughts rush through my mind,


endless rivers that’s what they feel like.


Memories, so many memories,






like a picture album with so many photos.






I feel so alone,


Like a ghost,


do I even exist to you?

Up where you are...






I toss and turn from side to side,


trying to get rid of the thoughts,


trying to get rid of what


once was.






Again,






I say,


let me go, I beg you let me be.


I just want to run in the fields,


swim in the sea,


float with the clouds.


But my legs are so tired,


and my lungs are exhausted just trying to breathe.


My arms are way too short to grab a hold of the sky






and pull myself away.






I say it one more time,


let me go, I beg you let me be.


And I could repeat this line a million times.


I'd still miss you though,


like a withered flower misses the rain.


I yearn to touch you,


like the moon wishes to touch the earth,


but it isn't gravity that attracts me to you,


it's something more powerful,


this invisible cord that ties you to me....

a mother to her child



feels like I'm watching you from a distance






I'm blinded by my dreams,


forsaken to see a reality that never existed.






This cell isn't my home and looking out the window just isn't the same.


& your laughter and "mummy" continue to echo throughout the empty halls.




We live our life in patterns,


moving from one tragedy to the next.







It's as if you're


reading the same story


over and over,


yet the ending never changes.


Even if you tore the book apart


word for word, page by page.







Only, if only I could turn back time,






let me turn this hour-glass upside down.






B e c a u s e   r e g r e t






is taking over


my mind, my soul, and my heart.

Who? What? Where? Why?

Who are you?

 Me? Little old me? Why... I'm Lauren... And, what does that mean? Oh, well let me attempt to tell you... That means a writer... a lover... a hopeless romantic, a poetic soul, a sister, a daughter, a mother, a mentor, a lover, a fighter, a thinker, a doer. Lazy, active, creative, mundane..…a beacon of truth, a storyteller, a singer. Depends on the day of the week!

I could tell you I'm nothing, I could tell you I'm everything. I could tell you, to some, I am the sun, the moon and the stars... To some, I never have, and never will exist. I could tell you I'm ok with that.

I could tell you that I'm someone who's a lover, not a fighter... But some days, that's not true. Some days, I just wanna start a fight, throw some punches.

I could tell you that I'm a girl who loves the aesthetics, the beauty of things... But that's not true, some days I just hate everything, think it’s all a waste.
 I could tell you that I'm someone who's an awesome writer... According to everyone else... But is that really the case? I suppose that's up to the rest of you.

I could tell you I'm a woman... But in so many ways, I'm only a child.

There are many, many, many things I could tell you... But that doesn't necessarily mean anything.

The only true thing I could tell you, in all truthfulness, is that I'm someone who cares. Sometimes, too much, sometimes, too little, but always, somewhat, somewhere, I will always care.

I'm not really sure who I am to be honest... I can tell you about myself, but who I am??? That's a complex question... After all, I am but a figure of my own imaginings, a built up character, composed of such simplistic things such as my past, a due sum of my wants, my hopes, my fears, my intangible memories of a wantonly forgotten past.

I can tell you what I want. I can tell you why I'm here; I can tell you where I’m going...I can tell you whom I trust... But I can't tell you who I am, for I know not even myself. You'd do better to ask that of one of my friends, or perhaps, of a lover... Or all of them perhaps, because, as we all know, we all see the world differently.

What do you want?

Ooh. Tough one. So many choices. What DO I want...? Suppose I could pen out a few things here...

I want to be happy. I want to walk down the streets and look up at the stars and know my place among them, to feel them smile down at me.

I want to love, and to be loved, I want to share my heart, my mind, my hopes, my fears. I want to be laid bare to the world, while still hiding from myself.

I want to be understood. I want to reach down and slip my hand into that of my lover's, everyday. I want to feel the wind in my hair, as I cruise down a mountainside on a bike. I want to hike those mountains, and bask under the star's light while stretching forth a hand to feel them wrap about my fingers. I wish to watch the sun set over as many rivers and oceans as I can, and I want to swim in the sea under the stars.

I want to touch the stars one day, I want to see life in other worlds, I want to behold another world's sunset with my own eyes.

I want to write, I want to dance, I want to sing. I want to look the world in the eyes, and see respect.

I want to be a good mother, a good sister, a good daughter. I want my family to point at me and say, of her, we are proud. That's our girl. That's my sister. That's my mother. She’s my friend.

I want to love, I want to serve, I want to care, I want to grow myself in ways never done before... I want to take a look at myself in the mirror and wave hello to the friend I see in it.

I want to make love; I want to make war... I want to taste humble defeat, and sweet victory. I want to taste both at once, to swish the bittersweet flavour of dying as I fall victorious, through my bloodstained teeth.

I want to be a shining beacon to those who are lost, an eternal friend to those who find themselves without. I want to crawl out of bed at four am to a dear friend crying, to show them that someone cares.

I want to make the world a better place, and not by going out and saving the planet... But by saving the people in it.

Why are you here?

I'm here to do all I can. To touch a life here, or to save a life there. I am here to be myself, to do everything right... While still messing up.

I'm here to prove to others that a humble, pain filled past is not a death sentence. I am here to prove to the world that we can rise above who it says we are, and be who we think we are, who we are in our soul, who destiny has shown us in our dreams.

I am here to show everyone the potential that we all have that resides within us. I am here to show us all that, we all can be whoever we like.
 I am here to write, and I am here to sing... I am here to hold out my hand to those who have fallen. I am here to fall, I am here to rise. I am here to help and to be helped.
 I am here to be a friend. I am here to be me.

Where are you going?

I am going... Places. I am going forth, I am going back... I am going to change things, I am going to put things right. I am going to fix things, and sometimes, I am going to break them.

Sometimes, I feel stuck in the mud, Sometimes I get sucked down... Doesn't mean I'm failing, just going in a different direction.

I am going to keep an eternal hand stretched into the darkness, waiting for someone to reach for it, and whilst I pull them out with the one hand, I shall put forth the other, constantly waiting for another fallen soul to cry for help. I shall follow friends into that darkness, the darkness from whence I have come, and show them the way out, to save them from the same sort of pain which I carry.

I am going to be great, I am going to be weak... I am going to make someone proud, I am going to make someone hurt... I am going wherever life sees fit to take me, making some changes of my own along the way.

Who do you trust?

Who do I trust? Well first off, the last person I trust is myself, flawed as I am...

I trust in Love. I trust in my lover, I trust in my friends. I trust in the good will of this world, I trust in the goodness of the heart... I trust in the fact that people are inherently good, and I trust that I have a purpose... As do we all.

I trust that I am... Who I am.

I am

I am...
A woman
with a full heart, hidden
Somewhere in an empty room...
with eyes not quite of autumn's gold, and yet
Neither all of summer's green.

I wonder...
If love is a tale made for children -
A granting of sweet dreams in their innocence -
A honey-coating to help their throats
choke down the bitter draught...

I hear...
A voice that whispers warnings, half-formed,
Bodiless as hope, until I swear I cannot draw
another breath unless this spectre be unmasked,
His lies mangled beneath my righteous tread...

I see...
A woman, proud, uncompromising,
Diaphanous as air - less, even, than the tears
that fall in desolation about her weary feet,
Salt poison pooled upon the withered ground...

I want...
A measure of quietude, a certain silence,
The echo of alone which heals me of dreaming,
The nothing that stills the wanting,
The numb, the cold that laughs at pain..
I am
a woman,
hidden...

I pretend...
That I can live forever - that time
has no puissance but that which I afford him -
and so, I can wait, I can be happy tomorrow,
Sleep is for the dead; but its ghosts haunt my waking...

I feel...
Too much - too deeply to be directionless,
Too real for imagining, and yet the familiar eyes
hold nothing of recognition - only my reflection -
a meeting of shadows in sunlit grass...

I touch...
The downy wings of hope, in wonder,
In reverence, in need, in hunger,
Alas, it burns my fingers as a flame,
A sacrilege, self defined...

I worry...
That I am alone, that in my longing,
I have forsaken all - but oh, what reward,
What smile devine should light the path to freedom -
And how can I but heed the siren's call?

I cry...
For having too much for fear of bursting,
and then, when by the pouring of my soul,
I lie, a vessel emptied, I cry again
For what was had, and lost;
I am
A woman
empty...

I understand...
That life is what you make it,
that sometimes, the coat of many colours
that marks your triumphs brightly, blends only
to loneliest of grey...

I say...
That we are made by life, shaped,
Broken perhaps - unmade and voided -
But always, the core of us remains, waiting
with only faith, with trust, to be reborn...

I dream...
Of bluest waters, reaching
with unnatural hands toward the faded sky,
Of dolphins that wander in seas without limits,
Carrying me water-breathing past corals and clouds...

I try...
To lead by example, knowing
That merely the telling holds no power;
A gift of giving is merely a day, while
A gift of knowing spans forever...

I hope...
That my darkness holds you gently,
That pain is halved by sharing, that feeling
wields nothing past the words it summons,
except that it touch you with only healing...
I am
A woman
Only.

Time Stood Still

Life is a tree, enduring harsh winters and blistering summers. For some time , I have not heard the chirping of birds or smelled the new growth as spring approached. Before you, I was enclosed in a dark stage of my life. My growth stopped, and my leaves turned brown as I wilted. But then, a day I will always remember came; a day when you entered my life. Once again, my flowers began to bloom and my leaves were no longer a dull brown, but an alive and fresh green. Hearing the sweet songs of the birds, and feeling the warm summer air brush my face, always brought a smile to my lips.

Many did not realise I was in this dark stage, for I hid my emotions, like a tree. I remained silent. Now, I listen to your tender voice...so warm...so comforting...just like the whispering wind as it blows across the land. It clears my head of troubles. I can feel your warmth as you hold me in your arms, like the sun beating down upon a tree. I stretched out my branches, welcoming the nourishing sun and let it penetrate deep into my soul; deep into my heart.

As I day dream of you now, I marvel at how amazing things are between us. Such a small change hoisted me out of my misery and redirected me to the sunny shores. In the depths of my heart, I know that the sun will not eternally burn and we may not also. When I think of myself going back into darkness, chills are sent throughout my soul. I feel a cold presence without pity or mercy. I've thought of it a lot, trying to find a way to fix the impending fate. As the time draws near, my hope falters, knowing the inevitable. Still, every day you look at me, and every day you fill me with contentment. Your confidence, and how you say that we will make it work, makes me realise that we all have a given amount of time and how we spend it is up to us. I can foresee that when I finally come to my senses, the time will be up.

Going against all logic and reasoning, the best idea is to just live life now and not think about the future. Every day is a gift of life and we all must spend it wisely. As for me, I feel I have made the right decision; to spend my time with a man who makes time stop for me...a man named Paul.

I love you...