Let Her Go

So much has happened recently, I can barely put it into words. It feels like life has never been so full, so empty, so beautiful, so painful or so complicated.


Where should I start? Firstly, it has been 6 months and 2 days since my Grandma Betty passed away. She spent her whole working life teaching primary school and she was one of the first people I called when I was accepted into Teacher’s College. It has been 6 months without hearing her voice. 6 months
without her hugs. 6 months. 6 months. 6 months.

I have just spent the last few weeks on my first professional practice in a school, teaching a class of twenty-eight 11 and 12 year olds. It was amazing, and I wholeheartedly believe that teaching is where I should be. Every day I would learn something new, and every day I had new things I wanted to tell my Grandma about. Every day I came home with the same heaviness that comes with wanting to talk to someone, but knowing they aren’t on the other end of the phone.

My Grandma lived life to the full, and delighted in the simple joys life had to offer. While in a class I was stuck daily of all the things I love about life, little things that Grandma taught me make up life. it was also these simple things that I know I will never get to do with Hope. Simple things like school assemblies and kids going up to get their first certificate; reading spelling words out just like my mama did with me; seeing children learn and grow and live everyday.

I never realised how unpredictable my emotions would be while on my pracitce. I anticipated some emotions, after all I was going to be around children and that was obviously going to be hard. But I could handle it, right? I mean, I figured that I knew what things would set me off, and I was ready. I was prepared. I really should try and stop thinking like that! Not only was I unprepared for the different moments that did set me off, I also underestimated the sharpness and the ferocity with which those moments would come.

A little 5 year old coming and giving me a hug.

Working through a math problem with one of my students.

Saying good morning to my students as they entered the classroom every morning with their parents.

All moments that made my soul lift up. All moments that brought back the crushing blow of my own reality-that I will never have moments life this with my girl. All moments that I will never get to share with my Grandma.

And all through the busyness and the paperwork and the teaching and the learning and the joy of being where I wanted to be, questions kept rolling round and round the back of my mind. One in particular, kept poking through to the forefront of my thinking. What colour would her eyes have been?

An educated guess would say blue, like most of my family. And that’s nice to think about, Hope being part of the family and sharing this special trait. But there’s a roadblock to this, and it’s a big one for me. I don’t know that her eyes were blue because I never got to see them. That irreplaceable, unmatchable moment when a mama gets to look into her baby’s eyes for the first time is a moment I will forever mourn. That moment has been going round and round in my head and shows no sign of moving out. Every time I try to consol myself and convince myself that she would have had blue eyes like me, like her nana and aunty and great-grandparents, there’s still a small voice that says “but you don’t really know, do you?”.

Getting to see children learn and smile and sing and breathe and live will never be any less of a joy as it was during my time with my class. But that reminder that my baby girl will never grow up to fill one of those seats, never get to bring home her first certificate, never get to complain about math homework or delight in learning a new spelling word…that will never be any less painful.

So lately my mind has been twisting and turning trying to make sense of all this grief. Mourning my Grandma, one of my favourite people in the whole world who was always there my whole life. Mourning my baby girl, who was here for too brief a moment.


I heard a song recently by Passenger called “Let her go”, suggested by my mum. One line in particular really hit home : "You see her when you fall asleep but never to touch and never to keep because you loved her too much".

I miss my Grandma and I miss Hope. My heart has never been so broken, and my life has never been so full.

This. Is. NOT. God.

Lately, I’ve felt and thought so many things that have damaged me, made me doubt myself, made me hate myself.

People make cruel or thoughtless comments, and instead of taking a step back and asking if it reflects them or me, a voice whispers “It’s you. It’s always you. It’s because you’re nothing. You deserve it.”

And this seems to happen so often that even though I don’t want to believe, I feel it slipping it. and it sounds so much like my own voice, surely it’s true? Each time I feel like I’ve taken a step forward something happens to bring me to my knees.

So it must be me. I am the common link here. It must be my fault. And if all of this is my fault, surely I don’t deserve anything. Even God’s grace. Even to know God at all.

But I have to keep telling myself, telling my soul- screaming at my soul- that THIS IS NOT GOD. He is not putting the words in my head that say “it’s impossible, nobody loves you, I can’t go on, I can’t do it, I’m not able, I’m unforgivable.” That’s the ENEMY talking, NOT my God.

MY god says that ALL things are possible (Luke 18:27), that HE loves me (John 3:16 & John 3:34), that HIS grace is sufficient (II Corinthians 12:9 & Psalm 91:15), that I can do ALL things through Him (Philippians 4:13), that HE is able (I John 1:9 & Romans 8:1), and that HE forgives me (I John 1:9 & Romans 8:1).

It feels like the enemy has really done a number on me lately, and is upping his game. His voice sounds like mine, his words sound like mine. And the further he pushes, the more he tells me that I don’t deserve anything, the further he pushes for me to doubt the very faith that keeps me.

But I have BIG God. Who loves me. Who has forgiven me. Who gives me mercy and grace every single day even though I fail him every single day.

I have a God who died for me.

THAT is the truth. Not that other rubbish. So even when the words sink in, and whispers cut like knives I need to remember that my Heavenly Father loves me, and doesn’t wish for me to feel this way.

Father God, I thank you with all my heart and being that You call me your child and that You are who You are-yesterday, today and tomorrow. I cry out to you. I am in pain and need you so. Please let me feel your comforting hand upon me. Shield me from the enemy’s barbs and help me to forgive those that you have already forgiven-especially myself. And please, Lord, as my heart breaks right now, please hug my darling once for me, and tell her that Mama is going to be okay, because Mama has a awesome God. Amen.

Today was a good day...

(I wrote this on Friday)

Today was a good day

Well, it wasn’t. But it was… Let me explain.

The other night I ended up in the ER again with an ailment the doctors couldn’t do anything about. They sent me home in pain, and I had a frustrating sleepless night. The next morning, I was sick from not being able to eat and exhausted from not sleeping. I had accidentally left my cell phone at the hospital so the day would involve a trip in to retrieve it, and pick up some medication.
I tried to eat something and keep it down. It was not easy. Having been sick like this before, I knew what I needed to do to help my body recover, but recently it feels like it gets harder to come back each time.

In the early afternoon, I began to feel a bit brighter so prepared for the trip back into hospital. I was tired, sore and not in a good mood. I was worried that I would faint from not eating, or my body would throw another tantrum and I would end up back in hospital. Suffice to say, I was not happy.

So, I picked up my phone (which had a completely flat battery by this time), and picked up my medication.  I hated being back there, even if I wasn’t a patient. It’s a scary place to me (not an unusual feeling, I do realise!) and anything that involves going anywhere near it generally makes for a pretty bad day.

As I was walking out, I suddenly realised how lovely the weather was. I decided on the spot to go for a walk in the nearby Botanic gardens. For those who know me, spontaneity (even for things as small as this) isn’t just a rare occurrence- it simply doesn’t happen at all! So anyway, I came to a seat overlooking the river. It was a perfect moment- the sun, the ducks, the air, everything just felt quiet and peaceful. And for the first time in days, I wasn’t in pain or feeling sick.

And I started to pray.

Not in any formal, organised way that ticks off bulleted pointed prayer points. No, this was like talking to an old friend I hadn’t visited in a while. I realised, sitting on that seat, looking at the beauty before me, how little I have been talking to God recently. I read somewhere a quote that I rather liked: “If you only talk to God when you’re in trouble-you’re in trouble!” It came to my mind as I sat there, and almost felt embarrassed. Because I was in trouble. Thankfully, so thankfully, it wasn’t God who made me feel this way-it was me. He is still there, exactly where He promised me He’d be. And when my heart was ready, He showed me just that.

I walked away feeling a sense of peace my heart hasn’t felt for the longest time. It felt like coming up for air. And for the first time in a long time, I felt like me again.

So, even with everything that happened, even with my health and all the little things that niggle and make for a bad day, I had a good day. Because in all of the all too familiar darkness, I got to spend some much needed time with my God.

Today I feel...

It’s so hard to put into words the plethora of emotions that grief throws at you. Sometimes, actually a lot of the time, emotions are merged with each other, a giant balloon of swirling thoughts and feelings threatening to burst and overwhelm you. Sadness…joy…pain…anguish…guilt…So much of the time it’s hard to identify just one or two emotions that you’re feeling at any given moment, let alone communicate them or put them into words. But in this moment I have to be able to know what I’m feeling, say what’s going on and put it into words otherwise the feelings will simply consume me. So I’ll try. Bear with me, I am less than succinct and tend to ramble!

Today I feel…sad. I miss my daughter, I want to see her and hold her more than I want to take my next breath. I’m sad because I look around and she’s not here. I cry because my arms ache to hold her, and they are empty. I feel sad because my grandmother has only been given a few weeks more on this earth. I’m sad because there are so many things that I want her here for. I’m sad because I know she must be exhausted, and the woman I have grown up with was passionate and lively. I’m sad because it seems so cruel how time and disease has ravaged her body. I’m sad because I miss my daughter, whose life was so brief, and I’m sad because my grandmother’s long life is almost over.

Today I feel…embarrassed. There are many things that I have said and done in this past year that make me cringe. Mistakes I have made that can never be undone. Things I have said to people that can never be forgotten. Trips, falls, slips and tumbles that I failed to recover from. Obstacles and challenges that I failed to handle gracefully, and instead made things worse for myself and those around me. I feel embarrassed that I have not handled this year as well as I would have liked. I feel I should be better than that, that I should be able to meet life’s challenges and rise above them. Triumph over the road blocks and detours and come out the other side, wiser and stronger. I feel like I should have, but I have not. It’s been over a year, and I feel like I have barely moved from where I was, weeping an agonised farewell to my daughter. I feel stuck, I feel like a failure. And for that, I feel embarrassed.
Today I feel…guilty. I have let myself and the people around me down so many times in the last few months I am truly surprised that I have anyone left in my life at all. I am astounded that more people have not turned and walked away. And even the surprise I feel at people’s continued compassion and kindness shows how distrusting I am of them and their intentions. And that makes me feel guilty, underestimating those around me makes me ashamed of myself. I also know that the problems I am facing are so consuming me that I have been unable to be there for the people I care about. I have not been able to be who they need me to be, do what I they need me to do. And after all the help I have received this year, this makes me feel guilty.

Today I feel…lonely. I miss my family, and wish that I could be with them. I try to explain how I’m feeling and few understand and meet me where I am at. While I know I am not alone, these feelings and tiny crises make me feel lonely, longing for just one person to understand what it is I ask for, what my heart longs for and my soul needs.

So the balloon above me swirls with colours I now recognise, nonetheless powerful enough to overwhelm me, but familiar insofar that should the balloon burst, I do not fear that it will end me.