Single Mums

Being a single mum, I didn’t have a partner to rely upon.
When my first born son Samuel died, my parents came through for me. And some friends, but very few.
My parents, who live in a different country, took turns in being with me: they didn’t want me to be alone.
I’m sure they were worried sick about the possibility of me committing suicide.
They weren’t wrong in being worried, as I seriously considered the option; but should I have decided to take my life, I would have done it anyway, even if they were watching over me.
Nevertheless, it was extremely touching of them to take care of me and comfort me so selflessly.

Most of the people around me disappeared after the first round of condolences, or even before.
They offered to help, and I consistently refused them all because I felt I couldn’t be seen in such a state.
And I didn’t want to have anyone around.

Most people never asked again.
The few who did, gave up eventually.
This is normal, and human, and I don’t blame them for that.
But it hurt.

I know I am at least partially responsible for the added pain of isolation and loneliness: I pushed them away and they did what I asked… without challenging my request.

The funny thing, if we can find anything funny in the situation, is that when it all happened again, when Zachary died, I did it again… and history repeated itself…

I believe that some of us might have it easier asking for help, but most of us find it difficult to reach out.
As a conclusion we depend on the support of people who can read between the lines and be present anyway, even if we push them away.
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