Fear {less}.
“No-one ever told me that grief felt so like fear” – CS Lewis.
This quote was shared with me three years ago. I’ve never forgotten it because it is so awfully true. Nothing can prepare you for the fear that comes with grief. It is a terror beyond anything I have ever known. The moments after finding Ava, the knowing instantly that we would lose her, the waiting for 48 hours at the hospital until we did… and then facing a lifetime without her. If I think of those early months, I think of being very, very afraid. I hear myself saying “I’m just so scared that this is real“. I simply couldn’t bare to imagine that this could not be fixed. That we were actually living our worst nightmare. The fear comes first, the missing comes later.
“You never recover from the loss of a child“. It was said often, back at the start. To my newly grieving, terrified self, those words were unbearable. I couldn’t fathom never recovering. But I also couldn’t fathom life ever being any different. Since then, I’ve often pondered the notion of “recovered”. What does that even mean? That you should return to the griefless, untouched self you once were? Well of course you don’t. How can you hold your lifeless, adored, child and openly weep and beg God to give them back and not walk away changed? You face overwhelming sadness throughout your every day and have to learn to incorporate it into a life that doesn’t like to pause for your grief. Of course you are different. But from a place of total devastation, you do somehow find a way to open your eyes and draw breath and face another day without your beautiful baby. You even go on to work and socialize and plan a future. Recovered? I don’t know. Altered? Without doubt.
It’s clear I’ve learned a lot in three years. I know that the suffocating grief does not stay forever, that it changes and the sadness becomes familiar. I have found peace with the un-happy parts of my life and my self. If I had the choice to erase my grief, I wouldn’t. If not for the sadness, then what? It isn’t enough to just remember Ava with smiles and fond memories. I need the tears.
On the harder days, I spend time with my missing. I write. I mourn. I recall. And if I pick up my camera, how I feel becomes how I see.
I am no longer scared.
S x
74 shared sentiments
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Oh Sheye. I just found your blog through the fantastic photos on Tara Whitney’s site, and I am bookmarking this right away. I lost my daughter Libby in 2005 at the age of one, and your writing is absolutely dead on. There is so much fear – fear of the strength of one’s own emotions and fear of feeling because it just might be too much to take. And fear that she will be forgotten – which would be like losing her all over again.
So thank you for your words. I will be faithfully returning to hear your continued story.
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Sheye, you are able to put into words what most of us feel but don’t know how to articulate..Your an incrediable person, my thoughts and prayers go out to your whole family..
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Sheye ~
I found your beautiful pictures today at Tara’s site. Georgeous shoot. Then I headed over to your blog to check things out…and started to cry. And cried hard. I’ve been reading your blog most of the morning and am feeling so sad but so inspired by your strength and love. I’m sending you my love. Thanks for reminding me just how precious every single moment of life really is.
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I find myself unable to not read your posts, you have experienced my greatest fear. I think about it too often and wonder if my thinking about it means something, and then I am even more scared. I feel your words as if I too am experiencing them and that scares the hell out of me. I am scared that I just admitted this, that I wrote it down makes it even more real. I fight with myself to not lock my children safely in their rooms so nothing will ever happen, but that is not allowing them to live. Your strength, your words, the beauty you capture speak to so many raw feelings in so many people. You have a gift, and yet it has come at such a price. Not sure what I’m trying to say other than I feel with you. I want to delete this, but I’m going to push submit…
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I have no words, I’ll just hug you virtually. You and your family.
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Sheye….What a truly unbelievable post. This is my first time visiting your blog. It caught my eye because I have a love of photography and enjoy seeing others work…which by the way is beautiful. I have spent the last couple hours reading many of the posts since your loss. I have cried so many tears as I have read these and cannot imagine the enormous emptiness you must have. Your strength is amazing…. Through all of this it appears you have had many who have been a support system for you, which is such a wonderful thing. We hear so often when we lose someone that “they are in a better place” and although I believe that wholeheartedly it does not take away the ache and emptiness you must feel. From comments I have read, it appears you have also helped many others are going through similar losses. God bless you and your family. One day maybe I will be fortunate enough to meet you and your wonderful daughter in Heaven. God be with you all. Julee
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I came across your blog a couple of years ago, I cannot remember how I came across your blog but if it makes sense I feel richer for it……I love your writings, I feel I know you personally and feel your pain and joy and all that you write about…..you are such a beautiful person and I feel very grateful for your blog! Grief became apart of my life just before Christmas….a different grief but still grief all the same……my son was diagnosed with cancer…..although it is different to your grief with Ava, I get alot out of your blog….you have a beautiful spirit, a glorious strength….and what I love about you is your realness…your heart just speaks and you share and it is truly beautiful…. thank you so much…I love what you capture and have captured in your photography….
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I know, not related to the written bit of the post… but I have to say it… Ivy is a gorgeous, gorgeuus GORGEOUS child!
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All your words talk to me…
And I also need my tears
all my tenderness for you
XOXOXO
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Your words truly describe the long road back from losing a child. We too lost a child seven years ago this month. Thank you for putting into such honest words the feelings, emotions and trials of this journey. I really can relate to your experience. God bless you.
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i’m coming up on a the year anniversary of my son’s death. i’m not quite sure i’m going to survive.
someone linked your site to me today but quite honestly, i don’t know if i can read your past, your grief, your loss.
the only thing i can say is, you give me hope that there might be one damn day that i will wake up and not feel like bawling my eyes out.
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I am not sure how I arrived at your page. A click here and there and here I was… I am so thankful to have found you. I have just read one of your posts Fear {less } and you said everything I have been feeling ( feel ) I lost my 21 year old daughter 2 years ago to a tubal pregnancy. I am lost without her, life today dosen’t have the same meaning it did for me 2 years ago.
I know your pain… and although I have just come across your page, I wish you strength and peace. I will continue reading. Thank you.
Be well,
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Wow Sheye….beautiful & articulate & powerfully written. I make it a point to pause for your grief. Big hugs OXOX
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Gosh, you are a beautiful soul. “I need the tears,” so profound and beautiful.
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This message was so touching. I also lost my child on 7/1/07. His name was Zachary. He was 18, just graduated and was gone 1 week later. He was killed on his dirt bike.He was a great kid, my 1st and only son. I have a daughter left that is now 18, and she is so beautiful, but has to grow up an only child. A friend of mine sent me this post and it it so brought me to tears again. You live in a BAD dream when you loose a child. It all never seems real. In my case, my whole life fell apart after we lost our beloved son. Zach had many friends that were and still are so supportive. He would have been 21 on 3/19/2010. We are going to have him a birthday party at what I call Zach’s place. I know he is now an Angel in Heaven and for some reason, NOBODY, can tell me why? Why did this have to happen to this very talented young man and leave his family in ruins. I look forward to seeing my baby again, and there is NOTHING worse than losing a child!!!!
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I would like to add to Sheye, that I give you so much credit for your strength. I know exactly how you feel. Nobody knows the emptiness you feel after you lose a child. It feels like someone has ripped out your HEART, beet on it and put it back. In July, it will be 3 yrs for me. I think of Zach when I wake up for all of these days since he passed, and hundreds more times until I close my eyes. I used to be afraid of the thought of dying, but not so anymore. There has been times I didn’t think I would make through another day, but something helps you to hold on. I want to give you my Deepest Sympathy, You had such a Beautiful daughter. I only can pray our beautiful children are in a better place. I would hear of others in the past that lost their child, and you feel bad, but nobody really knows until it happens to you. A piece of you is gone. God Bless you…Your story is so powerful. It was hard to read, but a big help. Thanks, Joy
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I lost my 18 month old son last week and a friend passed your blog onto me – it gives me hope that I will get through these very very dark, meaningless and empty days of this other world we are now experiencing. thank you for sharing your grief with us.
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As someone else here said… your words take my breath away. I’ve had similar loss but tomorrow for me is 17 years 3/16/93 and as you said it doesnt go away, you just get used to it and there are times that I take the pain out and feel it and then put it safely away in my heart. I’ve read your story many times and never leave without prayer for little Ava and some tears of my own. I grieve for you, for her, for her sister and brothers and Daddy, and I know in my heart that you will all be together again one day. My heart still aches for you as I have felt all these feelings many times and fear is the closest to grief there is. You’re right! God said 365 times in his book “Do NOT FEAR” and yet its so hard. I pray for you and your family
Kym
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You have said it all for all us angel mom’s out there Sheye. Thank you.
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I just found your blog and read about your beautiful daughter, Ava. In the mean time my 2 year old daughter, Lennon, walks up to me, looks at the computer screen at a photo of Ava and says “pretty princess”. Little angels recognize other little angels.
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I call my life after losing twin boys my “new normal.” It makes me a better mother to my daughter for sure and a better person in general, but the loss is always right at the surface. I find your words so true and beautiful. <3
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sheye i know how you feel because my big sister was taken away. she was 3 months
old and now she 13 it has been so long i cry every day and night i loved her love Ena and meli
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A friend sent me the link to your beautiful site because I had a similar experience with my six year old Dulcie, when she was three. I was so touched by your words and images that I blogged about my experience right away. There is a huge difference in our stories though, I found Dulcie in time and will be forever grateful. I’ve locked my memories of that experience away because it was painful to talk about but I realise there is a more painful place to be and I don’t want to be silent anymore. Thank you.
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I love seeing in frames, I love the beauty in the ordinary, I love my camera, I love that when I see images I hear too. I love the latelight, I love finding moments I didn’t imagine and I love creating moments I did. I love learning more every day, I love sharing what I’ve come to know, and I love making pictures pretty.
I’m so glad you stopped by. xx
Sheye, as always you touch my heart and my life and remind me to cherish my little’s, every day. Much love and wishes coming your way. You are truly a brave woman and inspirational in so many ways. Bless your sweet Ava.