Things are not memories nor are they the people who owned them, gave them too you, or left them behind. If you have read my blog or you know me, you will also know that my eldest son Ryan died in 2007. We are coming up to the 2 year anniversary (28th August, 2009). As you can imagine, working through such a life changing event, it’s really important to take care of your mental health and wellness.
Have you ever lost someone you loved? I bet most of you have, if it was someone really close to you, you may have been faced with the task of sorting through their possessions – clothes, books, personal items, mementos, sporting trophies…….all kinds of things. We all have a different strategy for dealing with this situation, some dive in and get it sorted straight away either due to necessity (the house needs to be sold or handed back to the landlord) or because you just want to ‘get it done’ others like to preserve the room as it was and spend time sitting in there remembering, others just can’t face it at all. There are lots of scenarios and combinations of reasons and ideas around this. You just need to do what feels right for you.
In the months after Ryan’s death the sight of his room and his things certainly bought me to tears, it was hard to believe one of my gorgeous boys no longer walked this earth, no longer here for me to hug and tell him I love him ‘lots and lots and more and more and lots and lots’ (a tradition from when the boys were little and asked ‘how much to do you love me Mummy?’); he was no longer here slamming doors (he was noisy as he went about his business) and lighting up rooms, bringing smiles to people’s faces and laughing with that wonderful contagious laugh. He chatted incessantly, till I would ask him for the edited version of a story and he was passionate about the things that were important to him. He thought his younger brother Bryce was fabulous, they were best mates. He loved a family or social occasion; he was an all round nice guy – loved by all who had the pleasure of spending time with him. So to stand at his bedroom door or lie on his bed seeing what he saw when he was in his room was just so very hard back in those days. The balance between grieving in a way that is congruent with mental health and wellness , given the circumstances, and feeling totally unhinged was a very fine line indeed.
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