Support

Thanks to my old school PE teacher, Tessa Brown, for pointing me in the direction of the Child Bereavement Charity website.

I have found some excellent information sheets there, such as this one called Helping Yourself Through Grief:

http://www.childbereavement.org.uk/Portals/0/Support%20and%20Information/Helping%20yourself%20through%20grief%20%20JA%20format.pdf

I recognise my own grieving process there - I am definitely someone who isolates and shouts and screams to let it out. For me it's a release and does not beget more anger.

Here's another excellent one about what friends and family can do to help: http://www.childbereavement.org.uk/Portals/0/Support%20and%20Information/What%20friends%20and%20family%20can%20do%20%20JA%20format.pdf

This information sheet gives some concise advice about how you can help a bereaved person. For me lots of our friends in France have asked if we need anything and I've responded with an automatic 'No, we're fine' - typically British I suppose as we're not fine at all. I think if I was giving advice to someone about how to help a bereaved person, I would say to insist - sometimes a second ask denotes an honest desire to help, rather than sounding like a cliché or platitude.

I remember reading in my grieving book from Wendy that the bereaved parents said that if someone asked how they were, they replied with a simple 'fine' or 'ok' (I tend to say, 'you know' and tail off), but then if that person insisted and said, ' No, but REALLY, how are you?' then that was a green light to open up. Something to remember.

I guess what I was looking for in the really early days (and even now) was someone close enough and confident enough to step up, take control and food shop for us, bring ready-made food to us or organise others to share this task, to pop in and sweep the floors (I left our tiled floors looking like we'd had carpet installed, there was so much Pepsi hair on them!), wipe the kitchen down, give the bathrooms a once-over... (We have recently found a cleaner who comes for two hours every two weeks, but interim the house is a state.)

I don't even remember the first four weeks before I started this blog. All I remember is that I managed to get Izzy to tennis lessons. How the hell did I do that?!

If only I had someone close enough to me in France who could have recognised all this and just moved in for a little bit, to help us through the initial helpless phase, instead of me having to make the horrific journey by plane on my own to the UK for comfort from my long-time friends.

But, oh how this time has done me good; being completely looked after. I honestly can't thank my friends enough. I was worried about staying with Angèle for so long, taking up precious summer holiday time with her kids, but Wendy said to me 'Ham, she gets it, she totally gets it. Don't worry.' And she does. And I love her all the more for it.

I hope and pray that, when I get back home on Thursday evening, I don't drop back into the pit of despair that I was in when I left. It's being on my own that is hard. Just too much dwelling time. And I have not yet had the confidence or desire to start projects - jeez - I can't even plan a family meal. Izzy has been pretty much feeding herself while she's with us. Thank God she actually likes to eat well! Even if her choice of biscotti toppings has become increasingly creative, at least she's eating and she's become an expert at spreading them without breaking them!

I keep reading that in fact, when the time is right, going back to work is a turning point. Bloody hard, but it puts structure back into grieving peoples' lives. Unfortunately I don't go out to work. I have my own tiny cottage industry business. So ok, it's high season and I'm busy which should be a good thing, but my business is renting out baby and toddler equipment to ex-pat grandparents and holidaymakers.

I cannot begin to explain how heartbreaking it is to be collating toy packs for little boys to play with - all the types of things William played with. Cars, dinosaurs, fire engines, things that beeped, buzzed, rang, sang and rolled.

But, paradoxically, I like the sense of purpose my business gives me - it's an obligation and a small time-consuming distraction.

Oh how I wish I could fast-forward to something like two years in the future. Will I have a baby? Where will we be living? Where will Izzy be going to school? How will Olivier's new business be doing?

Olivier's last day at his old, salaried job was due to be the day after the accident. Of course he didn't go. He left to start his own business - this has proved to be a life-saving distraction for him. He has thrown himself into the new business with energy and determination. I understand also that he feels he needs to make a success of this as he couldn't bear for this to go wrong on top of losing William.

We are grieving differently but we are also trying to communicate and be there for each other. In fact, it was Olivier who ran the house in that black week that I spent crying on the sofa when we returned from our aborted holiday.

Anyway, I get home Thursday and I will try to step up myself, to face the supermarket, to meal plan, to prepare and cook food that doesn't interest me... It will at least fill some time.