Episode 18: Explaining The Unexplainable

Last night, my 3 year old son Oscar reached up into the sky and cried 

"I want my Daddy back"

And I had to somehow hold him... while my own heart was breaking too.

This episode is about helping a child understand grief, when you're still trying to understand it yourself.

https://winstonswish.org/

Winston's Wish Free Support line Open Mon-Fri 8am-8pm - 08088 020 021

https://www.justgiving.com/page/lydia-wallis?utm_medium=FR&utm_source=CL&utm_content=link_in_bio

https://www.justgiving.com/page/allforgilbert?utm_medium=FR

☕️🖤

Transcript

SPEAKER_00 0:04

Hello and welcome back to the Early Morning Coffee Club, the podcast where grief is intense, humour is finally ground, and strength sneaks up on you like a double shot. How are we all doing this week? I'll go first. I'm moderately stable, which in grief terms feels like a win. No major breakdowns in public places, didn't text anything unhinged to anyone. Only cried once so far this week, but then again, it is only Tuesday. I almost didn't record this episode. I thought I might have to skip this week. Not in a dramatic I need a break kind of way. Just in a quiet, heavy I don't have anything left in me kind of way. Because last night I was putting Oscar to bed, planning to record the podcast once he was asleep. But out of nowhere, he just broke. He started crying for his daddy. Not just a little wobble, not just a passing comment, full, heartbroken, body shaking sobs, reaching up into the air with his little arms, tears streaming down his face, shouting, I want my daddy back. And there is nothing nothing that prepares you for that moment as a parent. All I could do was hold him and cry with him. For about thirty minutes, we just sat there on the bathroom floor, both completely broken. And then somehow I did that thing that mums do. I pulled it together, I got his pajamas on, brushed his teeth, put a big smile on my face and said Oscar, shall I tell you a story about Daddy? And just like that, he climbed up into bed, his little eyes lit up, and you sat there completely still, ready to listen to every word. So when you were a tiny baby Oscar and mummy had to go back to work, Daddy looked after you. And one day Daddy decided to take you on a big bike ride. You were sat on the back of his bike, all bundled up, and Daddy cycled really, really far. And do you know what you did the whole time? You slept the entire time. Didn't even appreciate the scenery, how rude. So Daddy finally stopped, he parked up the bike, he got out a little picnic, he gave you some milk, and Oscar you did the biggest, stinkiest poo Daddy has ever seen. Oscar was already laughing at this point like uncontrollably. And do you know what Oscar? Daddy forgot the wipes and the nappies. Silly Daddy. Oscar was now beside himself, laughing, giggling, rolling around again, mummy, again. And I think I told that story like ten times last night, and every single time he laughed like it was the first time hearing it. And that's the thing, isn't it? You can turn almost anything into a comedy if you include Pooh, especially for a three-year-old. So he went to bed, a happy little boy, and I came downstairs a completely broken mum. Because that shift from devastation to laughter and back again, it's exhausting. It's emotional whiplash. And in that moment I realized I needed help. Not being dramatic, just to know if I was handling this right. So I called Winston's Wish helpline. I know I've spoken about Winston's Wish in an earlier podcast with my friend Lydia. I spoke to the most incredible woman called Poppy, who was a child bereavement specialist and a volunteer at Winston's Wish, and an actual angel on the other end of the phone. And I just talked. I told her everything, what happened that night, what Oscar had been saying recently, all the little things that were starting to worry me. And she said something that instantly made me feel like I could breathe again. She said, Oscar is grieving exactly how we would expect a three-year-old to grieve. And then she explained it in this way that I will never forget. She said, It's like he's been given a giant jigsaw puzzle, but he doesn't have the picture on the box. He's trying to piece together something he doesn't fully understand. He's starting to realize what died means, and more importantly, he's starting to realize that daddy isn't coming back. And that's the part that just breaks your heart all over again. Because it's not just one moment, it's layers, realisation after realisation after realization. We talked about language, about how I'd been saying daddy's died, or daddy's in the sky, and she gently explained that children take things very literally. She recommended I say Daddy's body has died, and instead of saying daddy's in the sky, saying daddy's love or his spirit or his soul, whatever you believe in, is in the sky. That we can't see or hear it, but we can feel it because we loved him and he loved us. And then I told her about something that had recently really shaken me. So Oscar started asking to wear Alex's coat a lot recently, this huge green puffer coat that Alex wore all the time, and absolutely swallows Oscar whole. But the moment Oscar puts it on, his whole face lights up, he snuggles into it like it's a hug from his daddy. But then the other day when he was wearing it, he looked at me and said, Look, mummy, I've died. I felt my heart drop to my stomach. He then asked me to put on the coat, which I did, and he said, Look, mummy, you've died. I literally didn't know what to say. I didn't know if I should correct him, tell him off, ignore it, and Poppy explained it so gently. She said, He knows that Daddy has died. He knows that coat belongs to Daddy. So in his mind he's linking the two together trying to make sense of it. And instead of shutting it down, we should guide it. So next time she recommended I say, No, Oscar, you haven't died, you're alive. When someone dies like Daddy, their body stops working, their heart stops beating, and they can't walk or talk anymore. But you can, can't you? And then place his little hand on his chest and say, Look, can you feel your heart beating? You're alive. He's also been saying things like Mummy, can we get an aeroplane and go and see Daddy? Or when Daddy comes back from the sky we can show him this And that really hit me. Because I realized he actually thought Daddy was literally up there waiting, able to come back one day. And that is such an innocent, beautiful, and heartbreaking misunderstanding. So Poppy gently helped me reshape that to help him understand without taking away any comfort. And then there's this book called The Invisible String. And it talks about this invisible string that connects you to the people you love no matter where they are. It says that even if you can't see someone, you're always connected through this invisible string by love. And when Oscar and I read it together now, Oscar says, I've got a string to Daddy. And honestly, that image, that idea, it's helped both of us so much. Oscar. One day you might not remember these moments. You might not remember reaching for the sky or asking me when Daddy's coming back. But I will. I will remember every question, every tear, every story we told to try and make sense of it all. And I need you to know this. You are doing nothing wrong. Grief is confusing, especially when you're only little. You're trying to understand something that doesn't make sense. And I am so, so proud of how brave you are. I will always tell you about your daddy, the funny stories, the silly moments, the love he had for you. Because he loved you more than anything in this world. And that love doesn't disappear. Even though his body isn't here, his love still is. It's in you, in me, in all the stories we tell. And I promise you this: no matter how many questions you have, no matter how many times you ask them, I will sit with you every single time and we'll figure it out together. My wonderful friends Lydia, Adam, and Emily are taking on an ultra marathon in a few weeks' time to raise money for Winston's wish in memory of Alex. And honestly, after that phone call, after understanding just how much support they provide to families like ours, you can see why this is such an incredible cause. I ended that call completely exhausted, emotionally drained, a bit numb if I'm honest. As if Mondays weren't already shit. But I also felt something else, reassured. That Oscar will be okay, that this, however messy and painful it feels, is part of the process. And that I'm doing a good job, even when it doesn't necessarily feel like it. Because this part of grief, parenting through it, explaining the unexplainable, it might be one of the hardest things I've ever, ever done. But here I am, doing it. And if you're in this place too, trying to support a child through grief, or even just trying to support yourself, you don't have to have all the answers. You just have to keep showing up, and that is enough. This has been the Early Morning Coffee Club. Thank you for listening. I'm gonna put the Winston's Wish Helpline number in the description to this podcast, and also the links to Lydia, Adam, and Emily's fundraising pages if you'd like to donate. I'm sorry you're here, but I'm really glad that we're here together. I'll see you next week.