8 weeks

John translated my last entry for his mum. So I thought I might as well put it on the blog.

Yesterday was 8 weeks since Luca died. At 7 o'clock in the morning I had just arrivede at work, and thought back how I had her on my lap when she had that fatal heart attack. Depsite that they were trying to revive herfor an hour, I think that she died that moment in my arms. It comforts me that I had her in my arms.
We're 8 weeks further now. It feels like a century has past but it's really just 8 weeks. I think continuously about her, she isn't out of my thoughts for one moment.John writes frequently in a diary. What he writes is mostly directed toLuca, sometimes he writes about her. We talk about her, how she was, what she did. More and more memories come to the surface that John writes about. We fantasize over what she'd be like now. If she could walk unaided, or if she could say more words than Mama, Dadda, Abudabi en"look". What she would have thought of her first swim in the sea, what she would have made of all the Christmas decorations in the City, how many teeth she would have now.
We still have all of her belongings at home. A few weeks ago I packed some of her linen in a box. But I couldn't seal the box up, it just wasn't possible.
I cry everyday. Often as I'm in the shower. Then the tears are washed awayby the water coming from the shower. Often in the car, as I drive home from work. Sometimes I cry very briefly, a few tears. Other times I cry until I get a headache. John also cries everyday. Sometimes we can support each other, but more often the tears coming from each other are just too much. In this case, (this is somekind of expression) "shared sorrow doesn't halve the sorrow".
I'm reading books about grieving and this helps me to acknowledge my emotions. Despite that grief is something personal, there's alot that I recognise in the books I'm reading. And it gives me insight in the process that I'm in the middle of. One acquired insight is that grieving is not static and that it will never go away. That you'll always keep grieving, in a constantly changing way, with more or less intensity.
For the present, sadness has not subsided. It is actually too strong for words. The enormity of her death and everything that is lost because ofthat, is slowly becoming more a realisation. And that makes the sadness so much stronger.On the other hand, I think the circumstances surrounding us are good in a way. Luca was born in a country with high standard medical care. We couldn't have had it better in Melbourne. Everyone did their best for her. In regard to her physical condition, she had a few moments in her life where things weren't going well for her. But aside from those moments she did well and she enjoyed life as much as could be. And I dare to say with an easy heart, that she couldn't have come to a better home. The exchange of love in most pure form was enormous, it did the 3 of us a lot of good. There isn't any talk of regret or guilt where my relationship with John, or our relationship with others could become tense.

Life goes on and we're doing our thing. But the shine has been lost. And Ithink that is a real shame.

I came across the folllowing at Kira's website: "World WideCandlelighting" a worldwide initiative to remember all children who havedied. You'll be able to read more information if you click on the colouredtext. Sunday evening 14th December, 7 o'clock localtime, burn a candle foran hour which means that for candles will be lit 24 hours long for all thechildren who aren't here anymore. How beautiful is that?