The Last of the Firsts

A year ago today my family and friends attended Finley’s funeral. I had never been to the funeral of a child before; in fact I’ve been to very few funerals in general. It was very sad and it was very hard.
Finding the words to share about a person that you love so much but feel like you barely got a chance to know is very hard. Funerals usually speak of the things that a person liked to do, their accomplishments, words from people they loved. We never got to know who Finley would turn out to be; whether he would have liked sports or been clever in school, what he would have wanted to be when he grew up. I will never know what his favourite food would have been, or the kind of music he would like. The only things we were left with were the life Steve and I had shared, how our anticipation for him was so special and changed our lives, how we readied ourselves for his arrival. We could talk of things we wanted to do with him, plans we had made. That he looked just like Steve. That he was perfect.

How could you go about choosing something that would hold the half of your heart you had to bury? - Jodi Picoult

I’m finding this milestone hard. It is the last of the first ‘anniversaries’ since he died. From here on out every milestone will be a second or third or twentieth. Right now it feels horrible that time continues on. I hurt so much that I am moving further away in time from when I held him. From when I was still truly happy and had the whole world ahead of me. I feel weighed down. There is a heaviness on my heart. I MISS MY SON! So much.
A year ago I attended my own son’s funeral. I did not want to go. I did not want to say goodbye to him. The ceremony was beautiful. The music was perfect. Everyone brought stuffed animals to donate to the children’s unit of the hospital instead of flowers. We released balloons at the end of the ceremony. I wanted to include the balloons as a way of letting go. But when it came down to doing it, I did not want to let it go. I wanted to hold on to it forever, just like I wanted to hold on to him. Letting go of that balloon felt in my heart like I was having to say goodbye to him forever. I’ve since realised that he will always be a part of me, but thinking back to the way I felt on that day brings me back to that same place of desperation all over again. I don’t know how I managed to let it go, but I did. And I watched until every single balloon was out of sight. It was beautiful and I somehow felt a bit lighter.
I never thought I would have to plan a funeral for my son. I never could have imagined that I would outlive my child. And yet here I sit, a year to the day after his funeral. Living through the last of the firsts, and getting ready to start the cycle all over again…
Sweet dreams Finley.

16 thoughts on “The Last of the Firsts

  1. Hi Lisa, I found your blog via Netmums and I didn’t want to just read and run. I am so sorry for your loss, I cannot imagine what you’ve been through. Virtual hugs xox

  2. These milestones are so hard. Thinking of you.

  3. My heart goes out to you and your family. I wish I could give you a great big hug.

  4. robert brownlie leggate

    Brought tears to my eyes reading this Lisa as there is no way I can imagine how you must be feeling, I remember when we found out what happened, it just seems like yesterday, thinking of you today.

  5. I get you xx we passed the last of the firsts for Haydon last week.. :-( It is so so hard, and yep, we begin the cycle again…only, I’m told it’s actually harder the second time round. Always here xxx

  6. Oh Lisa, I’m so sorry for you… today is the 1 yr anniversary of my daughter Laura’s death, so I really understand what you are saying. Poor little Finley – my heartfelt thoughts go out to you and your family xxxxx

  7. Here from ICLW- nice to ‘meet’ you. I’m so incredibly sorry- there really are no words. Wishing you peace during this difficult time. Hugs…

  8. Here from ICLW – I just read Finley’s story and am so sorry for your loss, the combination of losing your baby and not being allowed to be there with him because of your bleeding. I’m sure yesterday was a hard day for you, and I know you will always miss Finley. I do hope for some happy things in your future, though.

  9. I am reading this with tears streaming down my face. I know the feelings you describe so very well. I also lost my son after he was born at full term.

  10. I wish I could hug you. This was a wonderful, heartbreaking post. It must have been a beautiful funeral.

  11. These milestones can be so hard, but as you say with time you come to realize that no matter how far time hurls you away from those days (and it does seem particularly cruel at first, the ceaseless passage of time), Finley stays with you somehow. Your love for him and the gifts he gave you will not diminish with the passing years. I am facing the third anniversary of my son’s death this year, and while it’s never something to mark with happiness, it does get easier. Thinking of you, Steve and sweet Finley.

  12. I am so sorry for your loss. I am not a regular reader… I am here from ICLW, but even in this first glimpse I had a sense of Finley and the love you feel for him. Thinking of you and your husband and your son.

  13. Such unimaginable loss…I’m wishing Finley sweet dreams as well.

    ICLW#34

  14. There are so many firsts. I’ve already done a lot of them since losing my daughter just over a month ago, but it’s always with some bitterness, because they won’t come again. Sending you peaceful thoughts.

  15. I can’t even imagine how difficult it has been, and continues to be for you. You will be in my thoughts and prayers.

    Liz – ICLW

  16. I’m so sorry for your loss. This post brought tears to my eyes.

    I lost a baby girl due to miscarriage and my husband and I let two balloons go as a way of letting her go. But I felt the same as you. I didn’t want to let go.

    ICLW #61

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