One Year On

Not unfamiliar to us, this current climate.

But unfamiliar altogether. 

Such an eerie, poignant sensation being taken back to the feelings of loneliness, imposed isolation and worry so familiar to those in the ‘oncology world’. So much of our prior 5 years was in physical isolation, distanced from our communities during the trauma. It feels like that cancer-centric life’s bubble of hyper-vigilance and vulnerability has now expanded – very much a trigger for traumatic memories from years of living apart, distanced or quarantined.

‘Three’ by Seth - God walks with our broken selves

Even more eerie that it coincides with March. For after 6 years and 10 months of our lives revolving around Ned, it’s now been one year revolving around his absence – the gaping hole he left. One year of our family struggling to stand back up and recalibrate around his footprint, but without him. One year since, in my arms, our darling Ned breathed his last and went to Jesus.

And after so many repeated blows, year after year, losing Ned here on earth was followed by a year full of further challenges… a year where we lost, we despaired, we hoped, and then we lost so much again – precious lives, health, relationships, many plans and career hopes. All while trying to uphold our children through their grief and consequent behavioural issues, and trying to re-enter the non-oncology world. That wound still freshly gaping, kept being scraped and pried open over and over again – the suffocating heaviness upon waking in the morning, the sudden choke of tears hitting the edge of my cracked voice mid-conversation, the ruminating about what-ifs while trying to go to sleep, the unfairness I feel that our children here have 2 parents with them while Ned has none, the internal anguish I wrestle with in answering questions about how many kids I have, the persisting numbness… I know Seth and the girls are struggling just as much. And we know this sorrow will last all our earthly lives.

I realise, though, that this brokenness and dejection is not exclusive to me right now. Many people have lost so much in the last month. So while we spend today, Ned’s Heaven Day, as a family of six minus one, remembering Ned in all his gentle, insightful, imaginative cheekiness, we’re going to re-focus and trust in Isaiah 41:10 – the verse that has pulled us all through one of our darkest years: “I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand”. It hasn’t fixed the pain, but in His grace, it has held us. 

19th May 2012 – 29th March 2019. We are so grateful that we got our Ned for those years, but oh how we ache. And each night we pray afresh “take care of him, dear God; please look after our Ned”.

Some snapshots of Ned, played at his funeral, thanks to Joe Looker, and Mark and Lisa Kuilenburg.

“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” 2 Corinthians 12:9