The end of the last day is drawing near and I just don't want tomorrow to come. I have a raging sense of panic, pain, fear and some unknown and indescribable feelings coursing through my body. Oh, this can't be my life. Oh, this must be happening to someone else. Oh, please please please let me wake up from this nightmare.
Why my Kay? What did she ever do to deserve this ending? What did we ever do to deserve this life? Better it was my ending and Kay's life.
Oh, oh, oh... don't let this happen. Let me wake up tomorrow and find Kay playing on her computer, chiding me for being a worrying Daddy. Let me put my arms around her and hold her close and feel her warm and life. Let her struggle against my hugs and push me away because she has something more important to do.
No, this can't be my reality. It just can't. It can't be.
Oh my Kay. Ah, words are not enough. Nothing ever will be.
I want my Kay, so very very very very much.
Friday, 24 September 2010
What a morning
I've been behind the computer all morning, discussing and editing texts for the service tomorrow, selecting music for the various steps along the way and blowing & labelling CD's from iTunes playlists.
A specialist photographer has also been along to make some photos of Kay with Marion, Nattie and I. Marion & Nattie were OK with this, I was half OK with it and Lauren didn't want to be on a photo. All fine by me. I'm very scared about refusing to do something and then regretting it later, but equally nor do I want to fill my head with things I'd rather not see/forget.
This afternoon I have to go to the school to arrange the photo display and work out a couple of other things. More guests will be arriving so the house will be nice and full this evening, people sleeping on camp beds even.
Marion's Aunt & Uncle are being complete saints with the way that they are working quietly in the background to run the house and support us. They are the silent heros of this situation. And then there's all the support we're getting from friends, which seems to know no bounds. We will eventually be extremely grateful for these things, acts of love which will last a lifetime.
"Your friends
will know you better
in the first minute you meet
than
your acquaintances
will know you in
a thousand years"
"Illusions", Richard Bach.
Indeed, I'm falling back to some of the most beautiful books I've ever read.
A specialist photographer has also been along to make some photos of Kay with Marion, Nattie and I. Marion & Nattie were OK with this, I was half OK with it and Lauren didn't want to be on a photo. All fine by me. I'm very scared about refusing to do something and then regretting it later, but equally nor do I want to fill my head with things I'd rather not see/forget.
This afternoon I have to go to the school to arrange the photo display and work out a couple of other things. More guests will be arriving so the house will be nice and full this evening, people sleeping on camp beds even.
Marion's Aunt & Uncle are being complete saints with the way that they are working quietly in the background to run the house and support us. They are the silent heros of this situation. And then there's all the support we're getting from friends, which seems to know no bounds. We will eventually be extremely grateful for these things, acts of love which will last a lifetime.
"Your friends
will know you better
in the first minute you meet
than
your acquaintances
will know you in
a thousand years"
"Illusions", Richard Bach.
Indeed, I'm falling back to some of the most beautiful books I've ever read.
Thursday, 23 September 2010
Busy with terrible decisions and pleasant company
A friend just called, concerned that I'd not updated the blog today. Another thing to add to the huge heap of care we're getting.
Today my family has arrived from the UK so we have been busy on that front. Other lovely and most welcome visitors have dropped by and numerous other things have been going on.
But every day we have to make terrible decisions, things that you never want to think about in your life. And Marion, who draws a lot of comfort from the fact that she can still see and touch Kay, is increasingly facing the realisation that that will end on Saturday.
So things continue to get harder and harder.
Today my family has arrived from the UK so we have been busy on that front. Other lovely and most welcome visitors have dropped by and numerous other things have been going on.
But every day we have to make terrible decisions, things that you never want to think about in your life. And Marion, who draws a lot of comfort from the fact that she can still see and touch Kay, is increasingly facing the realisation that that will end on Saturday.
So things continue to get harder and harder.
Wednesday, 22 September 2010
Saturday
We will commemorate Kay's life on Saturday 25th September in the assembly hall of Kay's school, De Muzenberg, Kijkakkers in Maarheeze starting at 12pm. Following this we will move to the Hockey field on the Philipsweg in Maarheeze, where we will say a final goodbye to Kay on the centre spot. Kay's family and relations will then escort her to the crematorium in Heeze.
If you would like to attend, please bring a purple flower for Kay. You will have the chance to place this flower next to her at the Hockey field. Should you be moved to do more than this, we will have collection pots for the Ronald McDonald house in Nijmegen available.
[You have no idea how painful it is to write these kinds of things].
If you would like to attend, please bring a purple flower for Kay. You will have the chance to place this flower next to her at the Hockey field. Should you be moved to do more than this, we will have collection pots for the Ronald McDonald house in Nijmegen available.
[You have no idea how painful it is to write these kinds of things].
The Thoughts of Chairman Howe
Ok, what I'm going to write next is rather kooky to say the least. Before I write there are some caveats to worth mentioning. Yes, I'm in an extremely distressed state, but No, I don't think I've lost my mind or suddenly gone bonkers. Further, if anything, what we're going through has made me even more cynical towards the "metaphysical" world, in all its glory. I've spent every minute of the last few weeks making sure that I didn't start manufacturing information from noise, because let's face it, when you have been through what we have been through in the last weeks, your mind grasps at any straw going, even ones manufactured from noise.
But nevertheless, I've heard Kay speaking to me.
On Monday I went out in the sun and the wind on my race bike to feel life around me and to feel me body moving and to try and find some peace from the rhythm of cycling. And after about 20mins I found that peace. My grief subsided and I felt the joy of the sun, the wind and the motion of my bike. And then I suddenly heard Kay, she was laughing at me and calling "Daddy" over and over again. She was dancing in light and radiated happiness. And I felt her love for us.
Now, I didn't actually hear her with my ears, more like hearing someone else's thoughts in my head. But neither did I have the idea that I was manufacturing the information. What I was hearing felt real, very specific even. She's in the right hand side of my head, in the area above and behind my right ear and the stronger her 'signal' becomes the more I feel her in the right side of my head.
Indeed I tried to dismiss all this as the fabrication of an exhausted and grief stricken mind. But you know, I want to hear so much that I couldn't push her away just because my rational mind wanted to dismiss what I was experiencing as a byproduct of my grief. What if it really is Kay? Think what you want, I know what I think.
Today I went on my bike again, this time with some expectation. Another sunny, lovely day full of life. Again, but with more trouble this time, I managed to enter a meditative state, the warmth of the sun, the coolness of the wind, the motion of cycling. And Kay was there again. This time I was not going to dismiss her. I listened to her. She can see into our hearts, she can see how much we love her, she can see how much we're hurting but she sees through it (and is a little impatient). She 'said' that Mama's so sad she can't hear her (Kay).
When I got back I told Marion that the only reason she can't hear Kay is because she's hurting so much. So hopefully Kay will reach Marion soon and we can share the feeling of her being with us.
Unfortunately, I cant keep up this kind of mediation for very long, not least because I'll end up riding into something. And when I stopped, the grief swept back in.
So, you can decide whether I've now gone completely round the bend or whether I'm being incredibly stupid. Or whether my Kay is talking to me.
I'm going cycling again tomorrow.
But nevertheless, I've heard Kay speaking to me.
On Monday I went out in the sun and the wind on my race bike to feel life around me and to feel me body moving and to try and find some peace from the rhythm of cycling. And after about 20mins I found that peace. My grief subsided and I felt the joy of the sun, the wind and the motion of my bike. And then I suddenly heard Kay, she was laughing at me and calling "Daddy" over and over again. She was dancing in light and radiated happiness. And I felt her love for us.
Now, I didn't actually hear her with my ears, more like hearing someone else's thoughts in my head. But neither did I have the idea that I was manufacturing the information. What I was hearing felt real, very specific even. She's in the right hand side of my head, in the area above and behind my right ear and the stronger her 'signal' becomes the more I feel her in the right side of my head.
Indeed I tried to dismiss all this as the fabrication of an exhausted and grief stricken mind. But you know, I want to hear so much that I couldn't push her away just because my rational mind wanted to dismiss what I was experiencing as a byproduct of my grief. What if it really is Kay? Think what you want, I know what I think.
Today I went on my bike again, this time with some expectation. Another sunny, lovely day full of life. Again, but with more trouble this time, I managed to enter a meditative state, the warmth of the sun, the coolness of the wind, the motion of cycling. And Kay was there again. This time I was not going to dismiss her. I listened to her. She can see into our hearts, she can see how much we love her, she can see how much we're hurting but she sees through it (and is a little impatient). She 'said' that Mama's so sad she can't hear her (Kay).
When I got back I told Marion that the only reason she can't hear Kay is because she's hurting so much. So hopefully Kay will reach Marion soon and we can share the feeling of her being with us.
Unfortunately, I cant keep up this kind of mediation for very long, not least because I'll end up riding into something. And when I stopped, the grief swept back in.
So, you can decide whether I've now gone completely round the bend or whether I'm being incredibly stupid. Or whether my Kay is talking to me.
I'm going cycling again tomorrow.
Tuesday, 21 September 2010
It's the small things...
...I don't need to wash my hands with alcohol after using the toilet anymore.
I have discovered that there are no words that remotely can do justice to the pain I feel. And it just gets worse, every minute, every hour.
I have discovered that there are no words that remotely can do justice to the pain I feel. And it just gets worse, every minute, every hour.
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