Mourning

I am in mourning

For over 2 years now

I'm not going to give any tips or guidelines here. I don't think I'm at that point yet.

But I have thought about writing about this feeling from time to time. Maybe something will come of it. Who knows?

I mourn the loss of my child, my son. Leon.

Leonidas actually, a strong name. It means the lion-like one. We liked the name. And we still like it. At first we thought the name Leonidas would just be on the papers and we'd just call him Leon. That was the case for a long time, until he started kindergarten. As there were some children called Leon, Leo, Neo and Lennart, the teachers asked Leon what he wanted to be called. Here he realized that Leon was actually just an abbreviation. From then on, he introduced himself to everyone as Leonidas. It was interesting for us, all his friends and relatives called him Leon. The people we met at kindergarten, school or later all called him Leonidas.

We hadn't expected that and it was nice that he decided that on his own. We liked that.

And then the doorbell rang. It was lunchtime. Normally I wouldn't have been at home, but I had taken a week's vacation. That was the reason why I was at home and opened the door. Police officers were at the door. Asked if I was me. Whether I was alone and whether they could come in. I wanted to close the door behind the two police officers, but they said, wait, someone else is coming.

In classic movie fashion, they continued.

Please sit down first...

All I knew at that moment was that the news would be bad.

But I hadn't expected that

Not such bad news.

We found your son dead.

From that moment on, nothing in my life was the same. Nothing at all.

My thoughts were racing, my heart was pounding in my throat.

None of this was true. It couldn't be true.

I can't tell you how long I thought that and still do. Even today, the thought keeps coming back that it can't be true.

Or can it?

Yes, it is true.

It hurts

Infinitely

This emptiness, this gap that has arisen. There is a pain there that cannot be described.

The pain has changed. I don't want to say it has become less or even better. I feel like it has simply changed.

Many people describe it differently.

And I think you can clearly feel how difficult this topic is.

I don't think there is any other feeling that is so different for people who have to experience it. No other feeling seems to be as different in the way it is felt and dealt with.

Anger, fear and resentment. For example, these are all feelings that feel similar for everyone, we all react in a similar way. Not with grief.

What is good for me, what helps me, what comforts me... that is everything that may not help others at all. What causes them even more pain or triggers them even more.

I find myself constantly changing. What was good for me yesterday, a song that comforted me, is so painful today that I can't listen to it. And it may be that it comforts me again the next time. Often there isn't even a day in between, sometimes only hours or minutes. One moment it does you good and then the next moment you are overcome by grief, by pain.

It's a rollercoaster with a rollercoaster.

It's a constant up and down, back and forth. A rollercoaster of emotions.

I'm fine, I feel ok. That's the sentence at one moment.

I can't take it all anymore, I can't bear this pain. I miss him so much that my heart is literally bleeding. These are sentences in the next moment. Sometimes there are only a few seconds in between.

Memories

One moment you're smiling about a beautiful memory that pops into your head, triggered by something. Most of the time I don't know exactly what. And the same memory sometimes triggers pain. It's almost unbearable, it tears you apart.

And this constant change takes so much strength and energy.

Someone told me that losing your own child is like someone cutting off your limbs.

It took me a while to understand what that meant.

Today I have to say yes! I know exactly what this person meant.

We have to get on with our lives, get on with our everyday lives, go to work, look after our families, maintain social contacts. Everyday life, just like everyone else has to do.

It just feels like we have no limbs. Maybe not without all of them. But more than one limb is definitely missing.

To lift, bear and handle everything without being complete.

It takes more strength and energy. We carry extra packages around with us.

It's so exhausting.

Sometimes you just want to lie down, not get up, hide under the covers and then wake up, drenched in sweat... it was just a dream.

No, it wasn't. It's real. All of it. The whole sad story.

But that's just the part we struggle with.

By that I mean we all have family, friends, acquaintances, neighbors, work colleagues...

How are you?

Good

That's a simple answer, not honest. But simple.

Few people really understand you. Not because they don't want to, no. Because they can't. You can't empathize or understand what it's like to lose your own child. Explaining it is laborious and exhausting. Ultimately, you can only give a small insight into what it looks like inside you and how you feel... the simple answer simply takes a lot less strength.

And whether you are understood or not.

There comes a time when you don't want to talk about it all the time. And quite often you simply can't talk about it. Then there comes a time when you'd like to, but you've suggested to those around you that you're fine, so nobody asks you at that moment.

Sometimes I feel like a teenager. I don't know what I want, I don't know what I feel.

Sometimes I manage to go from crying to laughing. And vice versa.

It's a chaos of emotions.

And not only that.

It's a total loss of control over your own feelings. And not just about feelings, about everything really.

You can no longer control anything.

Grief still hits me unexpectedly from behind today.

That's still the worst thing for me. A little thought, a line of a song, a topic... oh, there are so many triggers. And even here you can't agree with yourself. I'm grateful that so many things trigger me, then I remember a lot about Leon. I hate that so many things trigger me, because it's an unbearable pain every time.

Every time you realize he's not there. He's not coming back. Nothing will ever be the same again...

You go round in circles

Over and over again

And it doesn't stop

It does not stop.

Time goes on, the earth just keeps on turning. Every moment, no matter how you are feeling. Other sufferers have told me exactly how unbearable they find it that it just goes on. I couldn't understand it for quite a while.

But now, yes! Time goes on and on, the time in which you are no longer with us is getting longer and longer. It's been even longer since you were with us. I don't want that. You at least want to stop time if you can't turn it back. And I can't do anything about it.

The earth just keeps on turning, outrageously. I can't stop it.

It's as if Leon is becoming less and less tangible, like a sound that's getting quieter and quieter.

Panic sets in, you could forget memories, forget facial expressions, typical things he used to say, his laugh, his voice...

What about the memories that only I have with him?

This “do you remember”, “can you still remember...” that doesn't exist. What I forget now is forgotten.

An unbearable thought

You want to write everything down.

It hurts, it hurts me to write it down and yet the panic of forgetting torments me.

Maybe it just needed this time.

Now might be the right time to write everything down.

The right time, when your fingers are simply racing across the keyboard. Painful but you find words for it.

Maybe it's the image of the fog clearing. Feelings sort themselves out, it took the time that has passed in the meantime. Time that you don't want to let pass.

It's one big contradiction in terms.

It feels like everything...

Yes, no wonder hardly anyone understands mourners.

I understand that.

I often don't understand myself.

I wonder what it sounds like to someone on the outside...

How annoyed some people might be when they see my 50th TikTok or Instagram post with the same pictures but with a different song. Or even with the same song, because it just fits so well.

There are no more new pictures

There are no more new memories

We can only hold on to what we had. Tell it over and over again, the same stories, the same pictures, the same memories...