Landon’s legacy retreat

Surviving the Tsunami of Grief

~ Allyson Williams ~ 1 Comment


My love Theodore,

I am here, one with you in our hammock over looking Papineau Lake. The sun is shining, the wind is blowing a beautiful breeze and I am laying here with our crazy dog Jam beneath me while Patrick is sleeping and Jack is fishing with your Dad and Great Uncle Freeman.

You have been on my mind endlessly. I have spent much time in the last week thinking of how hard I crashed after riding a pretty long wave of peace. How depleted I felt, how the permanence of you being gone hit so hard and realizing how I will wake up in 20 years and have days like I just experienced.

I wrote you last from your resting place, I was the saddest I have been since you came into my world . My sadness stole my strength, my ability to function and complete simple tasks for three days. Filling my car with gas is an example of something I simply couldn’t do. My strength was replaced by endless tears, a tap was turned on and near impossible to turn off. You see grief is nothing more than a storm that comes and goes. Sometimes it is a beautiful rain shower and other times it is as crippling as a tsunami. I have now experienced the tsunami and the power it comes with.

I am so grateful to have felt it. To have lived it and to be reassured that the calm will always return and I will be okay. The calm did come, life went back to our new normal and your brothers have their Mom back and your Dad has his wife once again. We laugh, we love and we live. The tsunami temporarily steals that all from you. My heart aches for those who feel this on a more regular frequency.

So here I am with you, thinking and feeling so grateful for all you give me. Your gifts are ones I would give back in a heartbeat to have you in my arms if that was an option but it simply isn’t. So being open to see these gifts even if it is by having to look in the rearview mirror helps me to continue to grow and remain open for change. Having the tsunami hit allowed me to feel what many feel when struggling with life, sometimes you just can’t push the hard stuff aside, suck it up and get on with life. Sometimes life says enough! Enough is enough and you have to sit with it and feel it all. I appreciate the new perspective. I know it will be a matter of time before another hits but I am grateful for the variety of storms that come allowing me to feel such a wide range of emotions and gain a broader view which enables me to be much more empathetic. For now I am enjoying the wave of peace and holding you in my heart in the most loving way I can.

As I lay here I envision how it would have been, me and you rocking ever so gently in the hammock, the breeze blowing and you sleeping peacefully in my chest. I love you, I will never stop imagining all what could have been. Sometimes it hurts to think of and sometimes I can dream peacefully and full of love. Today I feel the latter.

Loving you is easy.

Your biggest fan, your Mommy

Carrying the Weight from Loss is Exhausting 

~ Allyson Williams ~ 4 Comments

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My littlest Theo,

I am here today with you, listening to the water lap up on the shore of the Bay of Quinte. My heart is so heavy, it is tired. I can’t stop wishing from every fibre of my being things were different. Missing you are words that are pale and seem to fall very short of how I feel.

We have lived 224 days without you. Life around me seems normal, the world is still turning, people still have love in their hearts, people still act out of hate, and the everyday routine seems to not have skipped a beat. Anyone looking from the outside would probably think it looks like our life too is back to normal and all is well. You could be our boys living in our home and think the exact same thing. Yet it is all a farce. We are tired, emotionally and physically. Walking around living everyday life carrying the weight of the loss of you is heavy and hard work. Behind every smile, laughter, trip to the grocery store, books read to your brothers, and the other 101 items on a list of simple tasks we all perform each day is your Mom who is doing this all with a 100lbs of grief on her back, and at times a paralyzing force around her that she has no choice but break through and put on a brave face, take on real life and do all that needs to be done.

Your Dad and I are exhausted. After a full day with your brothers, a full day at work for your Dad, then dinner, bath, books and bed we have very little time or energy to feel you. Like to really feel it, to talk about you, to move forward and to unload some of the weight.

We need a break, a break together. Time to focus on each other, to be at home, or not rush home, to cry together, to laugh together, to not cry, to sleep a full night, to fill our tanks without taking care of real life. Today until tomorrow morning we get a break, your brothers are happy as can be spending the night with your Poppa and Markin Williams. So here I sit, with you feeling all I have pushed aside because I had no time or because I was simply too tired to go there at times.

When you passed there was a sense of urgency to help us and we are forever grateful for every act of love but needing help isn’t over. This wasn’t a sprint, and it isn’t a marathon but this is our forever.  We aren’t just normal parents walking like zombies from the grind of having a 2 & 3 year old we are those zombies with an added load that holds a weight that is often too heavy to carry and we need rest. I pray that all of your friends in heaven have parents that are being loved and helped years after they were separated. Those who haven’t suffered a loss of a child will never understand that it isn’t just a emotional exhaustion but a physical one. Having time to refill physically allows time for the heart to also refill with peace. We all have tanks that hold love, peace, and physical energy. These tanks need to be refilled otherwise just like a car you will stall.

Theo, my sweetest little man I am sitting on top of where you were laid to rest, writing to you,and having the closest to a “Mommy Theo day” we will ever have. My heart weeps for you but I am so grateful to have this time with you nonetheless. Your Grandparents just gave us a really great gift.

The sun is shining, the wind is blowing a beautiful gentle breeze and the water sounds calming. Together we share this, as you are all three of those things. I feel you blow through, I feel your love shining down with the warmth of the sun and the sweet sound of the lapping water is as gentle as your love for me and all those who we share space with.

I miss you in immeasurable ways. Today, tomorrow and always. You are my son of all sons, the one I hold in my heart and to never be held in my arms again.

Your forever loving Mommy.