March has been unbearably painful, full of firsts and a stark reminder that life continues even with the deepest wounds.
Dexter's legacy and his honour are all we have to represent him and we will protect him till out dying days.
March 2023 arrived with blunt force pain to every organ in my body. Little Miss Deathly is a new part or version of myself since Dexters death, I've had to become comfortable with my darkest thoughts and feelings around death, the visions and the flashbacks. I can now talk about the pain of being witness to the lonely journey openly. I've had an education in death I never asked, for wanted or dreamed of, both Jack and I have and its harrowing. I'd be surprised if another death will ever hurt as much now. I can only hope another child's death will never come in my life time and that this was the worst of my life time, I can't bear witness more.
My therapist says I'm an exponential thinker in the therapy routes and the ways I deal with trauma and grief. I like to live in the realness of it, I thought this was the only way to face Dexters diagnosis and since, how I've faced all our troubles and our Childs death. I don't hide, I must face everything as nothing will ever be as bad as facing what we already have seen, lived and felt. The pain and hurt is excruciating and i'm happy to feel it if its all the intense love I have for Dexter escaping from me, knowing it has no route or destination. Listening to Dexters playlists, hurt me and makes me feel closest to him, its inexplainable but the last song he died too, his funeral song they are all precious to me, but they are barbed and painful to my heart.
Grief being an added emotion to our list of feelings isn't anything I would wish any parent, the sympathy and empathy I have for these parents across the globes is deep rooted, a compassion I can't articulate with justice because its so raw and unique to each of us. Im just so sorry and talking about it is the only way I feel we can connect. We are all connected by the circle of life glitching and taking a child before its time, before us. A parent isn't meant to outlive their child and the result is debilitating for the souls that remain. We are unfortunately all in this sorrowful club and for that I'm sorry.
I had a productive February and hoped to continue into the March with the same fierce focus but it wasn't to be and I was sidelined by blow after blow. March was as painful as Christmas for us. It was the anniversary of Dexters maintenance scan on the 4th of march 2022, on the 5th we received the news his cancer had returned. the memories flooded my mind, like the barriers I'd built from this truth had corroded in the acid of truth. The I had to relive the fact we all had covid, ironically Jack a year later almost to the day came down with Covid again but this time there was no Dexter or biopsies to get too.
Easter was later last year, so all the biopsies, the easter hunts and the devastating truths, the round of chemo, the NHS incompetence and their politics that started once Dexter had relapsed are still to come.
People send me quotes daily on death, grief, how it settles and changes, how the waves move further apart but always come and will always be there. People say how the year of firsts is the hardest... I think really, that's bullshit, especially when their a child or young person, their won't be a year when you feel alright that your child hasn't grown or that you don't know if they'd be into Pokemon or something new this year. After eight months of sweet sentiments and thoughtful advice, I've learnt one important thing, few people loved Dexter how we did, and they still get to sit at the dinner table every night with their families, all of their children and enjoy their lives, they couldn't possibly understand the endless pain and after a mere eight months, I think about how and when will this torture end daily.
This lack of understanding and empathy leads others to truly believe their grief is on the same level as Jack and mine. Grief is one of those personal, unquestionable emotions that means it's so individual you can't question how others feel, own or document their grief. However, when we read a public article detailing our child's name, his battle, his funeral, and all in relation to how something beautiful can grown out of grief like it can out of shit that's spread s across the earth, we were outraged at the ask of empathy and understanding of true grief and emotional intelligence. It hurt more because this individual hadn't bothered to ask, or show a word of kindness in any form of communication, before during or after Dexters funeral... 8 months of nothing and that's fine if you're going to try to manipulate a narrative of care and understanding to self promote off the back of our family tragedy. Had Dexters legacy been mentioned or promoted maybe the poor judgement wouldn't have hurt us so deeply, but just as in life protecting Dexter is the top priority and if we can't protect his narrative and the respect he's shown in death also how are we honouring him? Don't get us wrong, people can write about themselves, their perspectives on death, pain and grief just as I would, but make it about yourself if you intend to do that, you don't name other people's children or talk of their funeral in a public setting without talking to the parents, its never going to go down well, I mean I think its a little ' insensitive' to think otherwise. But folk be strange.
This became apparent to us days before mothers day, poorly timed and inventively executed it was a damning nail in the coffin, my first mothers day without Dexter, even with my sweet children making my day as special as they could, I still cried in the car as I went shopping for a spread to feed all the mothers within my family. I chose to invite the family over, distract myself as much as I could, last year Dexter was still in my arms and I can't tell you how precious this memory was. I still close my eyes and try to member how the weight of his body felt next to mine.
Having the family fill the house was a comfort to me. It was nice to make a bunch of finger sandwiches and it helped me realise that distraction and escapism, is the coping mechanism I find easiest to adopt in highly painful scenarios. It was a lovely day but when the night drew in and the house went quiet I was alone in my grief. We turned on Dexters wreath, the lights blinking in the darkness. A comfort but not.
With less than ten days for my heart to recover, then came my birthday. Now 39 and at 37 we embarked on trying to have a baby, failed rounds of IVF and miscarriage is all we have to show for our dedication and money. The chance of us having another baby feels unreachable now, yet it was the last dream Dexter asked of Jack and I in the year before his death, a huge driver in my belief it would happen for us. 40 is just around the corner and the joy we feel were owed is fast becoming a diminishing dream, when energy prices and mortgage prices are near doubling in our house and many others. Bigger the life, bigger the family means bigger the outgoings. And then my birthday arrived and this day, this day hurt me so deeply and I was unable to shake the sweet absence of Dexter from this day, the year before he had chosen my most cherished ring for me and hugged me like we would be together forever and this year, a ring is a token reminder and he's gone. How is he gone? My god you must grow sick of reading in my posts, my sheer repetitive disbelief, but my brain can't understand it, I think for fear of the insanity it would cause.
I am permanently furious hurt and fed up by the fact that there's no one that can help us and those we lent on for help don't understand, as Dexters life has faded from their mind, the empathy and understanding has faded with him. And the NHS has come clear in their failings as the desperation and hysteria of of our deathly situation has calmed and cleared for out minds to see the route of their rooks and queens to see all the failures and moves they chose to play on the chess board of Dexters life. Ultimately seeing him as a statistic and figure in a game where they make faceless decisions that make or break people families.
I am under no dissolution how lucky we are, my remaining children are my reason for living. I adore seeing their daily achievements. There sociable, well rounded, decent human beings, they make Jack and I proud to be the young parents we are, that people judged and doubted because our children are of true credit to us. But six wonderful children doesn't discredit how much one other sweet child meant to us, Dexter was individual and extremely bright, creative, strong willed stoic and his personality complimented the family dynamic between us all, we all truly miss it. He was loved so deeply by each one of us its hard to think of him as anybody but ours as we are the ones that walk past his empty room day in day out, we miss him every morning we wake, every movie we watch we give it a Dexter rating. I miss him sitting on his spider man bumper seat in the front of our cars. Every hour of every day, we are reminded of him by the things he cannot see and do, or the tricks on a skate board he'd have loved to have seen. My children are better at handling their grief, continuing their lives than Jack and I are, and im pleased. I want them to thrive, I need them to show how our united strength saved six of them when the seventh couldn't be saved. It's the only way I can breathe to think my children are owed good lives after the shockingly painful three years they've endured and continue to endure.
March and its torturous regime of life events continued, two days after my birthday and on the final day of March Quills birthday arrived. Last year Dexter was starting to decline, he was tired and not on top form but he loved being with Quill and cuddled him the whole day. This year in an unspoken honour Quill embraced his new Toystory obsession, bitter sweet for jack and I as Dexters 3rd birthday was also buzz and woody obsessed. All those years apart, how was Quill so into Toy story I really don't know how it happened. Not able to allow Quill to play with Dexters woody, he does have his Buzz, which may have started this whole thing. Woody has Dex written on his boot sole and now Quill is written on his own woody. I do wonder if the reminder is a sweet painful jolt from Dexter himself, maybe he's talking to his brother in his dreams as lately Quill keeps waking and climbing into bed with us, always at the time Dexter used to visit.
My ranting and rambling about the pain that march 2023 has brought has finally come to an end. The biopsy memories are Aprils treat and May 6th is the day they told us Dexter had 4 to six weeks to live, and the June is Jack's birthday and fathers day, and July is the anniversary of his death, I guess what I'm saying is, there are constant fingers in our wounds, and the days in-between the event day sometimes hurt as much but i'm hoping from now until then, people will understand not to rub salt in our wounds, respect the family and Dexters legacy, be considerate of the pain were masking, carrying and hiding on a daily basis, and just try not to add to it.
Talk to me about Dexter, I am Little Miss Deathly, I'm comfortable with talking about it , I embrace the pain I live in the grief when it arrives and I talk to you all about it openly. Its nicer to hear Dexter name on your lips than you to clam up be awkward and fear what to do say or ' walk on egg shells' around us. Jack may not be Mr Deathly yet but he could be if people were more open with him, he's a human being, a friend, a son, a brother, a husband, a boss and most importantly a Dad, he has lost his little boy, talking about him to Jack is as nice for him as it is for me. Don't be afraid, talk death and talk grief and it brings a little relief to us all.
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