Days 21 and 22

(Rhia’s comments are italicized)

• Train to Barcelona
• Train to Nimes
• Train to Arles

Hasta luego Spain! You were a wonderful experience, but we must move on. The trip to get from Zaragoza to Arles was a full day afair. Early to rise (5:15 AM), all the trains were late, raining at the stations, and an escape-room-like experience of finding and entering our room (magnets were involved). But one of the room’s walls was originally part of the 2000 year-old Roman Bath House right across the street 👍.

The Bath House, at its peak, could host 3000 guests and had a footprint of over 3000 m².

And then there is the Colosseum. Wait, Arles has a Colosseum, too? Yup, it sure does. It is ranked 20th in the world for condition. In school, I learned about the Roman Colosseum, but never knew there were so many still in good condition, and this one is still used for bull fighting events.

Right next door the Romans built the amphitheater. This, too, is still in use. So, right after fulfilling your bloodthirsty cravings of watching men killing animals (or each other), you could go nex door for a bit of culture! It seems so wrong, somehow!

Surprisingly, carved stone pieces that, elsewhere, have been displayed behind glass cases, were stacked out in the yard.

Something we learned about Roman construction techniques are called crypto porticos. These structures are the subterranean foundations built to support buildings on uneven grounds.

We saw some tourists showing an interest in a yellow building and found out that Van Gogh (supposedly) lived there for 18 months before being taken to an asylum for a year.

It was a good day of sightseeing but overshadowed by the fact that it was 5 years ago today that our daughter died. So there are no witty comments this time, just this is what we did.

I didn’t want to get out of bed today; but I did. We forced ourselves to go sightseeing and we saw some incredible sights. But my comments today are about losing a child ; so if someone doesn’t want to read a ‘downer’ post, you may want to stop reading.

Five years ago today, my world ended. Everything I had learned (and learned to trust) about the world fell apart. Our beautiful, bright, funny, and loving 16 year old daughter was dead.

Let’s get one thing very clear; there is NOTHING worse than your child dying. And if you don’t understand that, be grateful, for to understand means that it’s happened to you! And if my child dying wasn’t enough purgatory for a mother to bear, a whole extra level was added because my daughter died from suicide; her body would be found hanging from a tree two days later.

We’ve learned a lot in these past five years; we’ve learned that our child dying makes many people uncomfortable so WE have to mask our feelings to make our trauma more palatable for others. We’ve learned that many people (who have never experienced losing a child, let alone losing a child to suicide) are very vocal about how (and how quickly) they believe we should deal with our grief (and how we should be ‘over it’ by now). And we’ve learned how cruel and judgemental some people can be.

I’ve never been one to air my dirty laundry in public but I’m making an exception because this incident has hurt me to my core. We’ve recently cut some family members from our lives because they decided I was trying to ‘steal’ their (or other family members’) daughters to replace Rachael. How did I do this? By taking the girls to lunch (when they asked me to). One family member went as far as to warn another to ‘watch out’ for me because I may try to steal her boys. What had I done to deserve such criticism? I was taking care of the two little boys so their mom could be with her dying grandmother!

I’m a grieving mother, not a naive, ignorant, or insane person who thinks her child can be replaced. I don’t want your (or anyone else’s) child; I want MY child, MY daughter, MY Rachael! And that, I can’t have!

In fact, the naivety, ignorance, and insanity comes from believing someone can ‘get over’ their child dying. I had a heart attack and could get over that. I failed my ‘O’ level history and could get over that. I had a (previous) failed marriage and could get over that. But my child dying? The best a bereaved parent can do is find a way to move forward while carrying this oh-so-heavy burden. I recently had cataract surgery and was shocked at how shadowed my vision had become; being a bereaved parent is similar, except the shadows are on your soul and nothing can ‘fix’ them.

But I get up every day and keep shouldering this burden as I move forward (sometimes at a painfully slow pace). Thank you to those who are still part of our lives. Thank you to those who accept us on our bad days, as well as on our good ones. Thank you to those who understand that, sometimes, the tears still fall…and they always will. And, most of all, thank you to those who allow us to be ourselves, without expecting us to wear a mask for YOUR comfort.

Rachael’s death has devastated me but I’m still standing and still doing my best. And that, my friends, is as good as it gets after your child dies from suicide 💖