Sasha Hamrogue writes about grief and is the host of the wonderful new ‘Grief Encounters’ podcast, a series that looks at coping with death and dying.
It was summer when we found out that we were having a girl. It was the summer after my mother died. As the ultrasound glided across my stomach the nurse confirmed what I’d hoped to be true. I was carrying a little girl. My mother’s first grandchild. My father’s too, but he also died. A few years before her.
It was strange to know that part of them was living inside me without me being able to tell them. I felt like I was in a valley shouting the news only to hear my own echo back at me. The world is changing, I wanted them to know. Something new has happened. It’s happening now. And for once it’s not sickness and death. I tried to imagine their reactions. In my most private moments I let myself imagine it. But only for a few seconds, because what good would that do.
My daughter doesn’t really remind me of either of them. Not really. Sometimes I see a glimmer of my father, which is strange. But my mother isn’t visible to me in her. Not yet, anyway. Other people claim to see it and I play along. It makes them feel better about the whole thing.
It was August in Connecticut and the sky felt dense and was full of mosquitos. The night a symphony of crickets in that sticky humidity. The soundtrack of Connecticut summer evenings before you had to worry about everything. There were french doors in her hospice room that looked out into those Connecticut woods. Those thick, green, buggy woods. Two days before my mother died we had those doors open in the afternoon. Her last few days of breezes and sunshine and temperature. There’d been a thunderstorm the day before and I remember thinking that’s the last time she’ll hear rain. That’s rain, one last time. I rest my head on her stomach, under the blankets her frailty hid. She ran her hands through my hair, as she always did, provoking an intimacy that I both loved and feared all my life. “Have a baby, honey,” she said. And so I did.
Motherhood has cracked me wide open. The vulnerability that comes with loving children and the fear of losing them has been the most defining change in my life. It has asked me to be better and stronger than I felt I could be. It has developed my empathy, for other mothers, for strangers and mostly for my own parents. I know now that they did all that they could, with what they had. Because that’s what most of us do. Parenthood is full of regrets and new starts and learning the hard way. I wish they could see that I now see a bigger picture. Not the whole picture mind you, but when I hold my daughter and kiss her forehead I feel their love for me.
On the night she was born we ran into serious complications, which resulted in an emergency c-section under general anaesthetic. I was laying under a bright light, my arms strapped on either side, before they put me under. Aside from the doctors, it was just me and my little girl in that room. My husband panicking outside in the hall. She was in distress and needed to come out quickly. But as I looked up at the light before my consciousness went, I saw my first family. My mother at one side, my father at the other and my sister at the foot of the bed. It was probably the drugs, but it felt like they were protecting us. Maybe they were.
When I look at my daughter, my very funny and remarkably smart daughter, I only see the future. The past may live in her genes, but she has the right to her own clear path. And I intend on tending that for her all along the way.
About Grief Encounters
Grief Encounters is a weekly podcast series that looks at an issue that affects us all and yet remains so difficult to talk about: grief. Hosted by Venetia Quick and Sasha Hamrogue, the pair open up the conversation around loss and create a modern platform for people to share their own experiences, and start open dialogue around the subject of death and all that comes with it.
The podcast is not only moving and insightful, but also an extremely practical listen, that aims to provide plenty of advice, comfort and motivation coming from their wide array of guests, from all walks of life. Episode 2 -The Loss of a Friend, features an extremely poignant interview with Boyzone’s Mikey Graham about the tragic loss of Stephen Gately in 2009.
In their most thought provoking interview to date, Sasha & Venetia met with Kathleen Chada, who’s bravery, strength and positivity have to be heard to be believed. In 2013, her two sons, Ruari and Owen were found dead in the boot of a car, that had crashed into a wall near Westport Co Mayo. It later emerged that Kathleen’s Husband had strangled the children and attempted to take his own life. In this episode, she opens up to Sasha & Venetia about trying to continue to live her life positively, all the while ensuring that the memories of Ruari and Eoghan continue to live on.
When asked about her motivation for creating the show, Sasha said “Ireland has always had a strange relationship with how we speak about death, or to those who are experiencing loss. Sasha and I want to drop the stigma, and get chatting to people who are coming at the subject from all different angles. We really feel that the podcast will be an amazing tool for people in all stages of their grief to listen to”.
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