The Battle That Rages Within Me

I don't think you would argue that the greatest possible grief in the world is a result of the death of a loved one, more so if that loved one is your child. It is a pain nobody would wish upon his enemy.

I am not sure if where I stand is better off or worse, maybe you could tell me (with all due respect to those brave parents who have suffered the loss of a child). I wrote in my previous post (read it here) that I have made peace with my fate, that I will in all probability never see my kids again who are countries apart from me. There is my tiny baby in the same city which I reside, but even of that, I am not sure. I hope she has now reached her other six siblings where she rightly belongs. I don't know which fate is worse, the death of a child, or to forever lose seven, one of whom I lost before I even had a chance to explore her tiny hands and feet. But the idea of having her taken away after a couple of years by which time she would have bonded with me was a fate I could not let befall on her innocence.
Now my life has taken on a new definition, Before, I lived for my kids, after them I live for those children who are fated to cross paths with mine. Then, for a time, these become my kids and I dedicate my efforts as a teacher and mentor to help them sail these choppy seas of life.

Each morning I get up, dress up and show up. I put on a happy smile, I watch as people come and go. I think what their stories could be. But I wave and smile and I joke around, go out for brunches, I mingle and I go on shopping sprees. My smile never wavers.

It's difficult to describe both the facets; acceptance versus a broken heart. I am at a place where my mind, heart and soul tell me I am where I am supposed to be. I know that in my adversity I have found an inner peace and an inner strength that I could never have imagined I held. I am torn between trying to forget and not wanting to.

My daughter, the eldest, almost sweet sixteen, with quite similar habits to mine (though she is the splitting image of her dad), the most righteous and yet fun loving young woman that walked the earth.

My son, my rock. The one who supported me and didn't bat an eye to go out on a limb for the underdog. Once a classmate was being bullied because his fly was open. The ideal thing to have done, was to have laughed with the cool boys, but he went to the aide of the boy irrespective of coming into the line of fire.

My third 10 year old son, the witty and 'you don't mess with me' kinda fella. I never got to say good bye to him that fateful day. That I could tell him how much I love him is one regret I will always have.

My twins, 6 year olds. The nutty, crazy, funny, naughty, mischievous, lovable fuddy duddies that would win your heart over in a second.

My tiny 3 year old son. I still remember nursing him and swaddling him. He must have forgotten me by now.

The tiniest one almost 3 months old now must be recognizing whoever has her, as her mother. Better a woman who will stay in her life forever than a woman who was never meant to be for her.

And so again, I put on a happy face. I stay strong for my parents and family and friends. Many try and avoid me, because to them it is inconceivable that such a plight as mine can even exist and the utter misery makes it difficult for many to approach me.

But the confusion remains. Is it better to have a child pass away, or to have seven denied to you? Never to see them, never to nurture them. It is a conundrum indeed. Despite the memories that haunt me, I pray that they become outstanding people, a shining beacon of humanity. I can only just work to achieve this myself. I shall live, I shall love and I shall enjoy life irrespective of the darkness that lurks. I salute the parents who have suffered loss and grief. But at the end life goes on. It shall go on, it shall go on amazingly well. Grief will be a part of me till I die, but I am at peace and my faith is strong, my vision is as clear as day.