Finding connection, to wherever you are...
As time marches on to my daughter’s 5th birthday, 5 years since she was born and 5 years since she died, I find myself more reflective and more emotional than usual. Over the last 5 years, we as a family have a few things we’ve adopted as a way of making sure that Niyah is always with us. On many occasions, a star is visible from our lounge. Markab. Party of the Pegasus constellation. Our living children chose that star as where their little sister has gone. Now, I know that that isn’t really where she is but still I find myself, standing in the darkness of our garden, staring up at “Niyah’s star” and taking a strange kind of comfort from it. It almost feels like it’s daddy-daughter time. The same goes for white butterflies. My children have also always said when a white butterfly comes to us, it’s Niyah coming to say hello. Lately, I find myself, whenever a white butterfly flies by, saying “hello princess” as if I’m talking to any one of my girls.
To most, these would seem like silly, irrational things to do. As a logical and scientific individual, I know that the butterflies are not really my daughter coming to say hello and I know that she isn’t living on some distant star, conveniently placed so we can see it on a clear night. However, that isn’t important. What is important is that we have ways of feeling connected to her. Ways of keeping our daughter with us day to day. This is something only loss parents can truly understand. Others may see the logic but, it’s only us loss mummies and daddies who truly know.
As her 5 year anniversary approaches, I feel this to be more important than ever and in turn it calms those raging voices inside, just enough to carry on through the world like a normal person. Is there a point to my ramblings? Maybe. Maybe what I’m trying to say is that even if something seems silly and illogical to you, if it helps with your grief, if it helps make you feel just for a moment that your child is here with you, then it’s not silly and it’s not illogical. We all need that feeling of connection to our babies, even through the veil of death.
Finding magic, hope and belief in life after loss.
Beautifully written by Thomas Salter.