Wednesday, June 20, 2007


We had a special needs group meeting the other night which was quite interesting. A dad of a boy, young man actually, with cerebral palsy gave us a bit of a talk about his experiences. His son is 26 now and lives in a home. The father is divorced and spoke a bit about the toll a special needs child takes on your marriage. There was lots of lively discussion and debate about putting these children into homes or not. Basically what I think it boils down to is that each family did what is right for them. For Ian's son, the home he is in is the best place for him. He is well looked after and has a degree of independence and Ian and his ex-wife (who I think is overseas at the moment) can rest easy knowing that he is happy. Sandy and her husband have kept Ryan (22 with CP) at home and have a helper to assist with looking after him. Ryan and some other youngsters with 'disabilities' have started up a bead business and are doing very well (more on that later). And that is what works for them.

I did find myself feeling a bit left out of the discussion a bit. I did not really have any questions for the guy and he kept saying I was very quiet and do I not have any questions and I just could not bring myself to say why I did not want to ask questions. Nobody had told him about Kendra. Silly how you can be perfectly fine telling people about Kendra one day and then the next keep avoiding the issue. Then the conversation went to how God only chooses special people to look after these special kids etc etc. I remember posting a poem about it once which someone read out at the meeting. The problem is that when I listen to that sort of thing the thought just keeps going around in my head 'Then why did he take her away from us so soon? Did he decide that we were not worthy parents after all? Maybe we weren't coping well enough? Why then?' I almost said it out loud too, just didn't feel like throwing a damper on things. Do I sound a bit bitter and angry? Yeah, well generally I'm not, just now and again it surfaces. Not to worry, I am fine. Am really questioning this whole God thing though. But let's not get into that right now.

We are going to visit my mom for her 60th birthday and my dad's 68th and I think they need a bit of cheering up. It is also Gathry's dad's birthday so lots of celebrations this weekend. My car has been in the garage for over a week now (yes, my new car!) with a leak from the heating/aircon system and I really hope it is fixed tomorrow else we will have a problem getting to PE and EL.

We had a meeting with Branston's principal today. He was telling us all about how they thought intervention was needed and he is sure the school can help us etc etc. Really, we have been telling them for 2 years now that something has to be done and only when we say we are taking him out of the school have they woken up. We will see what the remedial teacher has to say next term and give them till the end of the year. If they cannot help then it really will be time to move him.

Saturday, June 02, 2007


This grief is a funny thing. It seems to come and go like the tides. One day I will be perfectly fine and then there are other days when it just sort of hits me out of the blue - I have a daughter. My daughter died! She is gone forever. I can never hold her again.

I read a blog the other day where she describes so perfectly the way grief progresses. (Delphi, I hope you don't mind me borrowing a bit from your blog) . The first, I would say, 8 months after Kendra died were like being blanketed in thick fog. It weighs you down, slows you down and you cannot see through it. There are days when it thins out a bit and you can see a bit further and days when you can't see your hands. After 8 months the fog had lifted to a degree but I missed it, I wanted it back. It felt like if the fog wasn't there then I was forgetting. Well, I blamed this on the ADs I was taking so I stopped them (against the advice of professionals). I must say the first month was tough. That old fog threatened to overwhelm me. Now it has thinned out again, not lifted entirely, but I can see a bit further (at least as far as Table Mountain!). I still have my heavy fog days and moments (especially when around babies and toddlers) but that is fine, I don't want them to go away. I even have some clear days where the fog lifts totally but I know it is always there, waiting to roll in from the ocean and that is ok. There were also many, many days in the beginning where that fog turned to icicles and really pelted me with ice. Stinging, painful ice. That also still happens although the icicles are perhaps not as sharp now, though now and again a really sharp one does surprise me at the oddest moments.
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