{As usual, all thoughts are my own. Everyone experiences grief differently and these are my thoughts and experiences.}
July 6, 2021 marked ten years since Ava passed away. Over the past ten years, I have learned a lot about grief, living without my child, survival, and reactions to life’s unexpected events. I have read countless books, blog posts, and social media group posts. I have attended private and group counselling. I have written down my thoughts and shared some on my own social media platforms as well as in my blog. I have started and stopped writing a book I don’t know how many times. I have advocated for childhood cancer, shared my story publicly, and stood up for what I believed in.
Ava’s journey and story have inspired many. Ava was the face and inspiration behind a national campaign to raise funds and awareness for childhood cancer for WP Creations. I/we have shared Ava’s story with countless professionals – the Saskatchewan Cancer Agency Board of Directors and CEO, the SCA Executive Council, the SHA Board of Directors (formally Regina Qu’Appelle Health Board), directors of Woman and Children’s Health for SHA, and the Provincial Minister of Health. I have been interviewed by the Regina Leader Post as well as CTV Morning Live many times. Randy has shared Ava’s story for the Saskatchewan Children’s Wish Foundation events. I have coordinated and held flag raising events at City Hall and the Saskatchewan Legislature. I have shared Ava’s story at the Small But Mighty walk. Ava was featured in the Truth 365 and her story has been shared with Childhood Cancer Canada. I have been featured in the Directors Comminqué for Regina Catholic Schools. I have shared Ava’s story and been featured in the Silver for Gold initiative for collecting tabs for childhood cancer research. It sure looks like I have done a lot, but let me tell you, there are a lot of parents of children affected by childhood cancer that have done way more than I have. One thing remains 100% true in all of this: I always feel that is never enough and I always feel forgotten about.
It has been a long time since I wrote a post, not because I didn’t have a lot to say, but because I didn’t seem to have the same motivation to write. I mean, who really wants to keep hearing from me?! The same pictures. The same emotions. The same thoughts. Is my writing all the same just repeated in different ways? However, writing helps me. It is for me. Even if no-one reads a lick of what I write, that shouldn’t matter. What matters is it is an outlet for me that indeed helps me sort out my thoughts and makes sense of my feelings. I suppose it is like an internal validation. It definitely is my connection to Ava.
10 years is a big milestone. One that definitely caused me to think of what I wanted to say. I always like when I read posts about top 5 things…I just could not stick to 5! That being said, here is a summary of 10 things I have learned in 10 years. Each one could be a post all their own…maybe that is what will evolve from this…There are actually much more than 10 things, but when I sat down to write, these discoveries popped out the most for me.
10. Some people will stay, some will go, and that’s OK
This one is loaded and could be a post on its own because it encompasses so much hurt. So.Much.Hurt. How dare you walk out on me after I just lost Ava? How dare you unfriend me? How dare you ignore me? Truth is, everyone needs to do what is best for them and I get that. Some people just can’t stick around and hear about their worst nightmare – their child dying. I am a big load to bear. It is easier to walk away. I understand. I commend the ones who have stuck around – who listen, who cry with me, who try to understand. You are the true heroes. By sticking around you will learn a lot and be able to help others who will you will encounter in your life who will go through something similar to me. I just want to say thank you for staying. And for all the new friends in my life, thank you for coming into this world of child loss. I sure appreciate you, too! You didn’t know Ava, but are getting to know her through me. That is how her memory lives on.
In summary, people come and go out of your life all the time. Not every person you encounter is meant to stick by you forever. That is OK. I choose to embrace my small circle of loyal friends – you know who you are.
9. Life is so very precious. Do whatever you can to save a life.
Well now, let’s throw in a pandemic and see how people handle that! Again, this point could be a whole other post on its own but I’ll summarize it: Get vaccinated, get a flu shot, follow public health advice…at the end of the day, it is not about you, it is about the greater good of society as a whole. I lost my most precious daughter to a disease that could not be prevented. Here we are with 100% capability to prevent death by following simple rules and so many people out there choose not to – choose not to! People choose death over following simple rules. People are up in arms at their lives being inconvenienced. Oh my goodness, how lovely for you to have never had immense tragedy and trauma with losing a love one! You must think you are untouchable! I am driven by the worst loss imaginable and I am not special – it could happen to you. Do whatever you can to save a life, life is precious.
In summary, be a part of the solution, always. If you can save a life, do it.
8. PTSD and trauma triggers are 100% legit and should be taken seriously.
Rewind to March 2020 and my feelings of complete shock and emptiness. Everything cancelled. Schools closed! Sickness, death…I feel myself sprial – oh, kinda like everyone else. I have felt all of this before…why have a felt all of this before? I have never been through a pandemic, so why does this all feel so familiar? Oh…oh…wait a second…because yes, I have experienced this exact feeling…Rewind to August 8, 2008 and Ava being diagnosed with cancer. Our lives stopped. We had to cancel everything. Ava was very sick and not allowed out of the hospital. All of those fun toddler and family activities cancelled just like that and no notice of when, if ever, things would get back to normal. The hospital was our new normal. Treatments, chemo, surgeries, blood tests, entertaining a sick toddler and caring for a newborn were our new normal. What came along with that were everyone in our lives who had an opinion on how I was handling it – “Stay positive.” “Be strong for Ava.” “Don’t let her see you sad.” “Don’t think like that, Sherri.” “She’ll have Halloween next year, Sherri.” “Think positive, Sherr.i” when in fact, none of these were guarantees. Acknowledging the enormity of my feelings as a 32 year old mom of two young children thrown into this this life/death situation was what I needed. I did not get that. I also believe that everyone was saying and doing what they thought was best. We were thrown into such a fast moving, acute situation that everyone was in shock and emotions were running high. Everyone did the best they could with what they had.
It was not until years later and a lot of counselling that I saw the gaps in how I dealt with my feelings in those early and shocking days. Mental health is a such an accepted thing these days but my mental health didn’t seem to be recognized or acknowledged properly in those early August 2008 days. Fast forward to March 2020 and all those same feelings of the “unknown” and life events as we knew it being cancelled and there became PTSD for me. The trigger of the pandemic released all the trauma from those early diagnosis days. The difference this time was everyone in the world now knew how I (and every cancer mom out there) felt when Ava was diagnosed. It is truly devastating to have your world stop for a medical crisis. I hope that everyone out there now gives people grace and empathy when they have a traumatic event happen. For now, we all know better as a society of exactly how that feels to have the rug pulled from under you. Acknowledge those feelings.
In summary, mental health stability is important. Listen and acknowledge everyone’s feelings. Empathy is a an amazing quality to possess. Acknowledging feelings is huge. It is not your job to tell someone how to feel. It is your job to be present and listen.
7. Thank goodness we actually recognize mental health issues these days. My child died in my arms, I will forever have mental health issues.
This one piggybacks on the previous point of the importance of recognizing mental health. Recently I listened to a podcast with David Kessler and he said “The worst loss is your own”. This stung. I believe the worst loss in the world is the loss of a child. I am living it and I honestly can’t imagine any other loss being as excruciating as this one. However, that is the loss I am living and therefore, the worst loss is my own. There were a lot of traumatic events over the course of Ava’s 3 year journey but the night she died, the finality of it all, was the worst. I was not prepared for life without her or for the domino effect her loss had on every facet of my life. I constantly have taken steps to deal with the loss and to move forward with life. But, grief and trauma rear their ugly heads a lot and affect me in different ways at different times. It is who I am. I am deeply affected by the loss of Ava – your child dying messes you up. That is a fact. {Note: Before you all start asking me if I am OK, rest assured that I am fine. I am just stating an obvious fact that you can’t go through something so life-altering and not have it change you in many many ways.}
In summary, mental health is defined as: “A person’s condition with regard to their psychological and emotional well-being”. My mental health is a continual work in progress because of the trauma of losing Ava. That is not a good or bad thing, it just is. It just is.
6. All social situations are ridiculously hard.
The burden of grief is heavy. It is woven into my very existence. Any type of human interaction is hard because of my loss. I can’t explain this well, but it just is.
It is hard to meet new people. It is hard to make friends. It is hard to have conflict. It is all hard. The grief feels like a dark cloud that is always there. It is hard to explain your situation to people and sometimes it doesn’t even feel right to bring it up. It is often met with a sense of awkwardness with people not really knowing what to say. When you are this anomaly, it is definitely easier for people to just walk away from you. For me, sometimes it is just easier keeping to myself. I have exhausted myself for 10 years trying to explain how I feel and how hard life is, but realized that unless you walk this journey, you will never really understand. So what’s the point? People quite often assume that if you look “normal” and aren’t walking around crying all the time, that you are fine. Biggest lie ever. It is a mask. People will see what they want to see.
In summary, social interactions, situations and basically, all relationships, are difficult.
5. Joy exists. All around me. Joy exists.
Having fun and even laughing are all joyful moments. And I have them – a lot of them! I enjoy life with my other children, Alivia and Anaya. I even have fun with Randy! LOL! I don’t feel guilt either when I experience joy. I try to embrace the moment and live each day to the fullest. Ava is my role model. She lived each day, even each nasty day, to the fullest. She got dressed, played, sang, danced, and was joyful all day. I mean, if my girl can do that in the hospital with a bunch of tubes in her, surely I can do that in my life, right?! Somedays are harder than others, but I do try to remember and emulate Ava’s zest for life as much as I can. I have many joyful moments with Alivia and Anaya. These are genuine, happy moments and they occur all the time.
In summary, joy still exists. Laughing is still good medicine.
4. I want to live AND I want to be successful. WHAT?!
It is common for me to hear “I can’t imagine losing one of my children. I would just die.” I know, I know. I used to think that, too. There were moments I lay beside Ava in the hospital and I would say to God: “please don’t take her from me, please don’t let her die. Please let her live.” In those dark moments, I was convinced that there was no way I would be able to live without Ava. Yet here I am. And the weird thing is, I don’t want to die, too, I want to live! Life is so precious and the very least I can do for Ava is live. Ava would have wanted to stay and wanted to live.
I also don’t just want to settle in life. I want to be successful, I want to achieve something in my life – to leave some sort of legacy about Ava and something for me. She continues to drive me. I want to make a difference and leave an impact.
I would also say, that I would give up everything to have her back. There is not a single day that goes by that I wouldn’t trade it all to have one more day with Ava.
In summary, life is worth living.
3. You should be horrified when there is any type of injustice or death of a child, any child.
Obviously my cause forever will be childhood cancer because it there was more awareness and research for it, Ava would still be here.
It is true that children are our future. Children should be protected. You should seek and find out what you can do when there is any harm brought to children. There is a lot out there these days. Again, there are so many things coming to light right now in the world, that this one is another blog post in itself.
In summary, advocate for the lives of children.
2. I would take any other life catastrophe if I could have her back
100% true. Take all my worldly possessions – I’d give it all away to have Ava back. I remember when I ran the business and people would walk into my house. We have a huge front entry way with high ceilings and it is beautiful to walk into. Lots would say something like: “Oh wow, you have a beautiful home.” And I would reply “thank you”. In my heart, I wanted to say: “I’d rather be homeless; I would take living in a box under a bridge if I could have my Ava back.” I would take any other horrific situation than to be living this one.
In summary, I would trade it all to have Ava back with me.
- I will miss Ava forever and grieve her forever. A piece of my heart is missing and I will never be whole again until I am reunited with her. I miss her. Lord do I miss her. I still ache for her. I long for her cuddles. I long to hold her hand. I miss being silly with her. I miss her laying beside me. I miss her warmth. I miss her joy. I miss it all. I will miss her forever. I love her and therefore will grieve her forever and ever. In summary, don’t put a time limit on grief, it is forever and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
It is unbelievable to me that Ava has been gone for 10 years. In some ways it feels like a lot longer and in other ways, seems like yesterday. This just happens to be how things are. I keep learning each and every day. I keep navigating the grief. I also have realized that Ava’s life and loss is just a part of me and a part of our family. It isn’t really a separate thing.
I think of Ava and I smile…and I hope you do, too.
Thank you for reading and for being here,
Sherri
hipposandbows 