Tuesday 21 May 2013

Let's not forget about the Dads

All the while I have been grieving and blogging I haven't really written much about Harry's Dad and how he has been throughout this horrendous time, and to coincide with the national campaign "Dad's Matter" for grieving father's from the wonderful charity Saying Goodbye:

Photo: Don’t Cry for Me Daddy

Don’t cry for me Daddy
I am right here
Although you can’t see me
I see your tears

I visit you often
Go to work with you each day
And when it’s time to close your eyes
On your pillow’s where I lay

I hold your hand and stroke your hair
And whisper in your ear
If you’re sad today Daddy
Remember I am here

God took me home
This we know is true
But you will always be my Daddy
Even though I’m not with you

I am Daddy’s little girl
We will never be apart
For every time you think of me
Please know I’m in your heart.

I love you Daddy!

Please LIKE the www.facebook.com/SayinggoodbyeUK page
Web: www.sayinggoodbye.org
Twitter @SayinggoodbyeUK
Youtube: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a-Z0IrXDGVA

Please feel free to share this post on your pages, as every share helps to spread the word about Saying Goodbye.

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I read these poems on their FaceBook page and wanted to share them for their poignancy and how accurately they describe a father's experience:


Men Do Cry

I heard quite often "men don’t cry"
though no one ever told me why.
So when I fell and skinned a knee,
no one came by to comfort me.

And when some bully-boy at school
would pull a prank so mean and cruel,
I’d quickly learn to turn and quip,
"It doesn’t hurt," and bite my lip.

So as I grew to reasoned years,
I learned to stifle any tears.
Though "Be a big boy" it began,
quite soon I learned to "Be a man."

And I could play that stoic role
while storm and tempest wracked my soul.
No pain or setback could there be
could wrest one single tear from me.
Then one long night I stood nearby
and helplessly watched my son die.
And quickly found, to my surprise,
that all that tear less talk was lies.

And still I cry, and have no shame.
I cannot play that "big boy" game.
And openly, without remorse,
I let my sorrow takes its course.

So those of you who can’t abide
a man you’ve seen who’s often cried,
reach out to him with all your heart
as one whose life’s been torn apart.

For men DO cry when they can see
their loss of immortality.
And tears will come in endless streams
when mindless fate destroys their dreams.

by Ken Falk

Don’t Cry for Me Daddy

Don’t cry for me Daddy
I am right here
Although you can’t see me
I see your tears

I visit you often
Go to work with you each day
And when it’s time to close your eyes
On your pillow’s where I lay

I hold your hand and stroke your hair
And whisper in your ear
If you’re sad today Daddy
Remember I am here

God took me home
This we know is true
But you will always be my Daddy
Even though I’m not with you

I am Daddy’s little girl
We will never be apart
For every time you think of me
Please know I’m in your heart.

I love you Daddy!

So anyway, back to Harry's Dad. He was the emotional one when we were in the hospital, and when everything was going on, he would be the one who would talk and cry and I was the one who would listen to the Doctors and try to think practically. The roles have now utterly reversed and I think they did the day we left the "bubble" of the hospital. I felt like while we were there we had to be strong for Harry and to make the important decisions for him and his care and his treatment and his future. I think when I left, the "burden" of that responsibilty had gone as we had said our goodbyes to Harry and now was the time to cry and to talk and to question. Harry's Dad was the opposite. It was almost as though now the world would see his feelings and it is not acceptable for a man to behave in any way that shows emotion. He would open up with me when we were alone but otherwise would put on a brave face. I was worried that this would lead to repressed feelings but after a while of trying to coax it out of him, and getting an aggressive reaction I thought it best to leave it be.

I know his friends were thinking of him, but knowing how strong he is generally, they didn't want to bring it up with him and upset him so would discuss more trivial things like football and tales of nights out. After speaking to a few of them, I know that they would be there for him if he did decide to open up to them and for me that is great, just to know that he does have others who will listen if he feels he wants to share. But he doesn't. If I bring up what happened or if I want to go over that terrible day vocally (rather than just over and over in my head) I know now that doing this with Harry's Dad is not the right thing to do. It is almost as though he has found a place for Harry in his heart, and he can deal with his own feelings inside, but will not want to talk about the event or those feelings and feels comfortable managing things this way.

Men are so different from women, but that doesn't mean they don't feel the same inside. It just means that they have different ways of expressing how they feel. Some will want to talk, and share, and cry. Others, like Harry's Dad will find their own ways to deal with it all, and that doesn't mean they aren't feeling anything anymore.

He still expected a baby just as I did. 

He was there, in the labour ward, watching the contractions on the machine, and holding my hand as the epidural was sited.

He was there, when they decided to go to an emergency section, and witnessed the chaos that surrounded that decision.

He was there, in his theatre outfit, while I was wheeled to theatre. He watched as they operated to give birth to our son.

He was there when no one would tell us what was happening to our son. Just that he was "poorly".

He was there when the amazing doctor broke the horrific news to us.

He was the first to go and see Harry on the neonatal unit when frankly, I was too afraid.

He was there when Harry was christened on the unit.

He was there when Harry met his family members.

He was there when the doctors would explain Harry's condition was deteriorating and we made our decision with the doctors that we would withdraw treatment.

He was there, when we returned to the unit to allow Harry to be with the angels.

He held him, as I did, and loved him, as much as I did.

He was there when we went to the funeral directors and he supported me while I dressed him in his perfect white outfit. He put on his tiny blue slippers before I placed him in his tiny white coffin.

He carried Harry into the church for his funeral, infront of all our family and loved ones.

He stood beside me as I read my reading in the service.

He carried Harry into the cemetry and laid him down to rest at his grave.

He did all these things.

He is Harry's Dad.

He is grieving too. 

Please remember the fathers. They tend to grieve silently. They put on the brave face and pretend all is fine. 

They have lost a baby too. They feel the agonising pain. Just because they are strong doesn't mean they feel nothing.

He remembers Harry, as I do. He thinks about him when he sees babies who would be his age. He thinks about how Harry should be playing with William. 

Dad's Matter.......


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