So we went back to France…..

It was a long journey- three and a half hours each way in a day. Add in stops and the day was quite arduous – that was the long journey back to the place where Kieran died.

The previous day, our first full day in France, we had all gone to the local Anglican Church. It was full of ex-pats, who were all so very friendly and welcoming and the service was just what I think we all needed-  the day before we went to Messanges.

I’ve left it too long this time to write about the service in any detail. I find that the day my boy died- the 24th July- is just the start of what seems to be a month of getting through, because of various events and memories that followed associated with his death. My memory fails me as to the content of the sermon and prayers but I do remember it seeming to be made for our family at that point in time… and indeed Aidan commenting to me that it was just what we all needed.

 

Anyway,as I said, it was a long journey- (we had purposely stopped well away and completely inland from Messanges) – but as we got to within just a few miles of Messanges, we started to recognise some road signs and landmarks we had passed previously, at a time  2 years ago when the holiday before us held  hope and expectations of an enjoybale and relaxing family time.

Either on the way, or on the way back, we saw the signs to Dax – where we had gone to the funeral directors; Souston, where Kieran’s body came ashore and we went to the mortuary to identify him.  Signs on the road and non-descript roads travelled held so much meaning and invoked such feelings. I told myself it was a different time, I was a different person, I was irevocably changed from before. But it was strange. Feelings bubbling away, memories……

We parked the cars at the campsite. Of course there were 7 of us this time. Before it had been Kevin, Tara, Kieran and me parking the car; this followed by my sister and brother-in-law, Den and John, joining Kevin, Tara and me- after Kieran had drowned.So this time out of the 7 of us drawing up in 2 cars, just 3 had been to this beautiful yet shocking place before.

We had to walk a little way in the camp site. I donned my sunglasses as the tears at this point began to fall. The bubbling up had overspilled and big fat tears were blobbing down onto my cheaks. I felt dread, a heavy heart, the bubbling had come to the fore.But Kevin held my hand firmly. We do not need to speak, he and I, for each knows what we cannot verbalise; united in a son lost to us forever and tortuously missed.  I just stayed with Kevin, trying to just let the tears roll under the sunglasses, because for Aidan and Sheila (and of course Alex and Beth) this was a new experience, something they had to face, wanted to face to try to understand and put into context the loss of a brother and grandson. There is no understanding of course. It remains a mystery why these things happen. Why so many were in the sea that day, further out too, but it was my boy who got caught in a wave and rip current. (We think of course, the consensus of opinion- for what else can it be? But we will never know what happened for no-one saw and my boy just disappeared).

We turned left to take the main path between the sand dunes. Rest benches had been added along the route which I think were new. We reached the point where you looked down on the beach and across the sea. The place by the Lifeguard station and the slope down onto the beach.

The sea was sparkling in the midday sun, the sand was as golden as ever, and there were families down on the beach and in the sea. Normal holiday makers enjoying themselves, just as we had been.

I think we all got upset, I remember hugging my eldest as he cried for his brother. But in a way, looking out to the sea I felt a reassurance that we would have done things exactly the same again, had this not happened. There was nothing to scream out that this was dangerous, nothing that made me think “what were we thinking of going down there”. And it reassured once again that it was a tragic accident as the coroner later stated.

We ate lunch at the campsite and toasted our boy’s life, and then we set off again back on the long journey back to the Gite.

Did it help me? Well it didn’t not help if you see what I mean and it made me realise that we had got through it, another tick for having faced up to something hard.

The 27th July

We went back to France a month before the 2 years that Kieran died on holiday. On the 24^th July this year, Kevin decided he wanted to work, wanted to keep busy. I had the day off as did Tara. Even though she no longer celebrates her birthday on this day but has it a week later, I still know it’s her birthday of course- nothing man-made can change that fact.

So on the two year anniversary that Kieran died it was my daughter’s 21^st birthday. 21 years since our beautiful Tara lit up our lives, our only daughter and middle child- always a middle child with two brothers- and indeed she continues to consider that she has 2 brothers, just as I consider I have two sons. Anyway we pottered about, went to Conkers again- but it rained. We took some flowers and rebelled by placing them where Kieran’s ashes lie rather than neatly to one side in a vase (I moved them 2 days later to conform – you know me- can’t rebel for long!)

On  Monday the 27^th I worked- but I was far more affected by this day than the actual 24^th. Fortunately I was working at home and wrote down my thoughts before I started, having been having a cry walking Max. It was raining again, the weather was unseasonal and autumnal. The storms in grief and bereavement are sometime sudden and seemingly come from nowhere. On 22^nd July it was the William Allitt Award Evening. Once again amongst the awards was the shield we had donated; the “Kieran Knight Award for Kindness and Compassion”. As we were going out of the door, Kevin turned a terrible shocked white colour and didn’t want to come- it was not how he remembered Kieran he said. Tara and I went but I was concerned about Kevin who had had some grief reaction. I felt selfish, I had just assumed, that like last year we would go along and see the award given in Kieran’s memory to this year’s deserving child. Something I got some comfort from, Kevin didn’t this time.

More often storms build up, the weather gets hotter, more humid, more oppressive until the thunder claps, the lightening flashes across the sky and the heavens open, clearing it all out for a calmer day the next; storms as such occur in France, storms as such that brought Kieran back, storms hitting me on the 27^th as I wrote.

The day before on the 26^th I had looked at the remembrance book in church-open for the coming week. “Kieran Sean William Knight”, entered in there- date of death 27^th July. You see whilst we all know he died on 24^th, we were told that the date on his death certificate had to be 27^th,  the day his body was found and he was certified as dead by a doctor. 27^{th –}the day Kieran’s body was found following 3 days of waiting.

I’ve noticed that initially my writings were immediate. The need to write things down was a way of pouring out my feelings; initially on Facebook (which I’m rather embarrassed about really), and then in the blog (which is really just a pretend blog because I don’t do it properly). As time has gone on it is more reflective.  The need to write is still there but much less often, perhaps more considered. It is now a way of unpicking and reflecting on my journey. But occasionally I still need to outpour as it happens which was the case on the 27^th. But I did not post it, merely wrote my feelings down.

This year it has felt that when you get to 2 years people don’t expect you to still be grieving. It’s time to move on, get on with it.  Society expects the scars, yes to be there, but to get on- for after all, hasn’t everyone suffered a massive loss in their lives, whether through death, estrangement, loss of job or relationships, etc?

It’s been noticeable this year that there were fewer texts, people gradually drift away, either forgetting themselves- after all- it affected them only superficially;  or thinking that you are okay now and there is no need to check.

And I am the same with others, after all, what more can be said? “Hope you are okay”, “thinking of you”, “praying for you”, etc. How I agonise over the most suitable text to send. You’d think I’d know now wouldn’t you?

Those around are moving on and so are we- of course we are- but we move on with Kieran in our hearts every second or every day as my daughter put in her blog on her birthday/ Kieran’s death day.

The last month we have gone back to Messanges, seen someone else die (and be resuscitated- another post to write) and there is a feeling that I am doing well. Which I am. But the drums are beating, less audible, further away, the storm is brewing, less obvious – and then wham it hits you, caught in the thunderstorm, stupidly unprepared, thinking another year and I had got used to this grief lark!

The 27^th was another day, I wrote,  full of memories- but I think the main feeling that I remember  that day 2 years ago,was the loss of hope (of the earthly kind anyway). Although I knew as time passed on 24^th that Kieran was dead and the days that followed we were waiting for news of his body being washed up somewhere. When he was actually found, it was final, the end, the reality.

The 27^th held memories of identifying him (I think Kevin protects me from that). He could not identify him by looking at him and Tara and I were held back- both wanting to see but Kevin saying no- it does not look like him and the young policeman in haltering English and visibly moved saying to Tara he would not if it was his brother.

When I wrote this on 27^th my mum told me she’d lit a candle for Kieran the day before and cried again;  that they had remembered the date at her church and had put him on the annual prayers for the bereaved. Mum said she sat by the statue of the Virgin Mary (I think her long lost Catholicism is returning in what is a very high Anglo Catholic church).

On Sunday the day before I wandered round to move the flowers from Kieran’s patch of grass and put them by the side again- and cried in the rain- but had to then get my act together to go back into the coffee lounge and lead the after service prayers.

I’m okay again now- but the 27^th I snivelled my way through the morning. The month of memories starting on the 24^th builds up. You think you are coping, dealing with it, better than last year, but as one date and memory follows another, the storm clouds gather until the clap of thunder from your soul and the resulting rain pouring from your eyes is inevitable.

We miss you Kieran, we love you Kieran and whilst we may be getting on, you live forever in our minds- the hollowness and pain in my heart will always be there my love.