My adaptation of The Bereaved Parents Wishlist

• I wish my daughter hadn't died.  I wish I had her back.

• I wish you wouldn't be afraid to speak her name. Elizabeth did live and is still very important to me. I need to know she was important to you also.

• If I cry and get emotional when you talk about her, I wish you knew that it isn't because you've hurt me. Elizabeth's death is the cause of of my tears. You have talked about her and you have allowed me to share my grief. I thank you for both.

• Being a bereaved parent is not contagious, so I wish you wouldn't shy away from me. I need you now more than ever.  

• I need diversions, so I do want to hear about you, but also want you to hear about me. I might be sad and I might cry, but I wish you would let me talk about Elizabeth; my favourite topic of the day.  

• I know her death pains you too, I wish you would let me know these things through a phone call, card or note or a real big hug.  

• I wish you wouldn't expect my grief to be over in six months. This first year is going to be traumatic for me, but I wish you could understand that my grief will never be over. I will suffer the death of Elizabeth until the day I die.  

• I am working hard in my recovery, but wish you could understand that I will never fully recover.  I will always miss my daughter and I will always grieve that she is dead.

• I wish you wouldn't expect me 'not to think about it' or 'be happy'. Neither will happen for a very long time, so please don't frustrate yourself.  

• I don't want to be pitied, but I do wish you would let me grieve. I must hurt before I can heal. 

• I wish you understood how my life has been shattered. I know it is miserable for you to be around me when I am feeling miserable. Please be as patient with me as I am with you.  

• When I say, 'I'm doing okay', I wish you could understand that I don't feel okay and that I struggle daily.

• I wish you knew that all of the grief reactions I'm having are normal. Depression, angry, hopelessness and overwhelming sadness are all to be expected. So please excuse me when I'm quite and withdrawn, or irritable and cranky.  

• Your advise to 'take it one day at a time' is excellent advice. However, a day is too much and too fast for me right now. I wish you could understand that I'm doing good to handle an hour at a time.  

• Please excuse me if I seem rude, its certainly not my intent. Sometimes the world around me goes too fast and I need to get off. When I walk away, I wish you would let me find a quite place to spend time alone.  

• I wish you understood that grief changes people. When Elizabeth died, a big part of me died with her. I am not the same person I was before she died and I will never be her again. 

• I wish very much that you could understand - understand my loss and my grief. But I hope and wish that you will never understand.

Taken from The Bereaved Parents Wishlist (author unknown). I found it here. Thank you dear friend.

I am going to send this to Ma - I hope this will bridge the chasm that has formed between us.