Before the many many blogs that are going to be coming along discussing the wonders of Disney, I wanted to dedicate today’s post to Harry Lloyd and the wonderful charity I work for Saying Goodbye.
Saturday June 8th the Saying Goodbye Service was in Chichester Cathedral – I wanted to go and experience the service first hand. I am so very glad that I did, in the few days since the service I have been able to acknowledge that I have dug deeper through my layers of grief. If you have never been I urge you to come along to a service near you, it really does help! Here there is link to a radio clip that you may like to listen too.
It becomes easy to think that you are dealing with your grief, that you are on an even keel. However I know I had reached a plateau that subconsciously I didn’t want to rock. Zoe Clark-Coates had asked me before we went on holiday whether I would read a poem during the service. When I read and practiced the poem it was beautiful, and I knew there was one particular verse that could make me cry. But through every practice I felt confident and at peace.
Sat in the Cathedral as the choir began to sing, I turned to one of my best friends Kerry and silently thanked her for being right next to me, a lump was already in my throat. The service had poetry, readings, music, hymns and a heartfelt address by a canon who had lost his grandson. The whole time I sat and thought about Harry, thought about how much I miss him, have missed him, still miss him. With Daddy Lloyd back home with B Lloyd my connection to my whole family was through touching and playing with my wedding rings non stop.
Kerry took my hand just before I stood up for my reading and asked if I was ready, I felt confident and nodded my head. I was doing this for Harry Lloyd.
I don’t remember much, I remember my voice ringing out throughout the Cathedral and me wanting to come across clear to Harry where ever he was listening. Then the line “My Mummy set me free” I heard my own voice break and instead of being able to see the words infront of me I could only feel my pain and the tears burning down my cheeks. It was the next line that broke through that next layer of grief.
“I miss my mummy oh so much”
The turmoil in my own mind on whether to let go and sob whilst still being stood up at the front of Chichester Cathedral with hundreds of eyes on me felt like an eternity, but in reality within seconds Kerry was beside me, arm around me, and taking over. Then I let go.
As we walked back to our seats I mouthed “sorry” to Zoe, she instantly jumped up and whispered in my ear – never be sorry, as what I showed was true love.
Gathering myself together as much as I could, we were then lighting candles for our babies, watching every person returning from this simple gesture in tears, with the same pain I feel, etched on their faces, you suddenly feel part of a family. A special family that understand the devastating pain. There is no your pain, their pain, someone’s pain, it simply becomes our pain.
The ringing of the handbells was harder for me than I expected, a public announcement that yes I have lost my son. I sobbed as I heard the beautiful sound of the bell ring out over and over throughout the cathedral.
There is no question in my mind that this service has helped me, was I ready to knock through another layer of grief? I don’t know, are you ever ready? I do know it’s healthy to keep working through it, not ignoring it, not pretending that I am alright. Yes I felt foolish on Sunday for not being able to complete the reading, and yes for a moment I worried I had let Harry Lloyd down, his Mummy not strong enough to carry on for him.
But I knew I loved Harry Lloyd, but maybe I had never allowed myself to believe that Harry Lloyd loves me.