The day the police came to my house to inform me that Kamila died was probably the worse day of my life. Just moments before I heard the worse news I could ever receive, my other daughter Char and I were in such a good mood. We had just returned home from an appointment at the paediatrician's and a treat at Starbucks. I saw two police cruisers parked outside and told Char I was going outside to be nosy while 'sorting some recycling'. She went upstairs. Both officers came to my door and I still had no idea about how much my life was about to become fractured and changed forever.
They asked if they could come in. Scanning my brain for any possible law I might have broken, I reminded myself that cannabis was legal. As they stepped into my entrance I told them I had a client in 10 minutes, and asked if I should cancel it. They said yes. I started to email my client from my phone, then I heard the officer say to his radio, "yes, we are here now, turning off the radios." That's when I knew something bad, really bad was about to be revealed to me. My heart started pumping so hard I could feel it pounding against my chest. I didn't finish sending the email...instead I said, 'ok my anxiety is through the roof, what's going on?' They told me to sit down. When the words finally came out of the officer's mouth, I immediately felt a violent blow to my stomach. I have felt this feeling before, when something really really bad almost happens - it goes right to my stomach. It feels like a combination of a huge bruise and butterflies that burn and gnaw at my insides. I couldn't compute or understand what was being said to me. I definitely couldn't believe it. How could someone who is perfectly healthy, who LOVES life and lives it at 150% just die out of nowhere? She was the most alive person I knew. It made no sense.
And so the nightmare began as I sank into the ground, a dark hole with no light or time. I felt as though I was jolted into a place that I knew nothing about. Just terrible physical pain and the sense that my body had collected an extra two hundred pounds. From the outside all you could see was me staring at the wall or ceiling, completely lost. Every few minutes I would wail with excruciating heartache. I threw up several times.
For the first month I could barely stand without supporting myself on a chair or table. It felt like I was 'going invisible' and like my muscles couldn't support all the extra weight I had acquired with grief.
That pain stayed with me for months - I started to wonder if it would ever go away. I even got an ultrasound when I started to worry that something was truly wrong with my stomach. Everything looked good. Then one day, I remember noticing that the pain in my stomach had finally released its death grip. I felt like I was getting better. Like I was starting to progress in my journey of grief. I remember looking around and thinking to myself, I can do this! I'm getting better! I'm starting to know this new world of grief and how to handle it.
I had to learn the hard way that the relief was only temporary. That unfortunately it would come back again.
As I type right now I can feel it. I am 6 days away from Kamila's 21st birthday and the pit has taken residence in my stomach once again. I never knew how visceral grief was. It feels surprising because I'm a therapist - I've attended trainings, done readings, and have supported many people in their grief. But I had no idea about the physical pain and the extreme drop in energy that both come and go. Even when I'm 'doing good' - I'm only operating at about 60% of the energy I used to have, in my other life. When grief comes back in my body, I feel like a sloth - like I can't move easily in the world. Slow, laboured steps as I walk from one room to the next.
Cooking dinner for my kids? Good one. Skip the Dishes.
It feels discouraging sometimes to have to go through this again and again. It's hard to push through my basic role as a parent and as self-employed therapist. The advice that was given to me by a few of my North Stars (mothers who have lost a child before me), was to not fight the massive shift in energy and return of physical pain when it comes. Even though it feels more intuitive to distract myself and keep going, that no longer feels like an option for me. I am being called to slow down to a stop. To make space for my grief and sorrow. To love my girl so very much that it hurts in every part of my being.
This grief is my new relationship with Kamila and it is more than deserving of my time. Just like when she was alive and needed me, I must drop everything I am doing to be with her.
Thanks… take good care. I have taken the pause to learn from the grief, of the loss of my son.
Namaste 😘