I’M Alive My Children Are Dead—Or Are They?

By Diana Gordon

When faced with a sudden and unexpected crisis, when faced with a death of a child, where your whole life is changed forever, where interacting with life is a huge challenge, where everyday matters are difficult to cope with and life seems insurmountable, how does one go on? How does one gather the strength and the courage to pick up the pieces of a shattered life?

This book is the story of a mothers journeyof a sudden and dramatic crisisa descent into darkness and the journey back into the light. It is a journey of hope, love, survival, self-empowerment, and healing. It is a journey she hopes will inspire and uplift all who have lost a child or a loved one. She discovers that her children are still alive in their spiritual bodiesdead to this world but alive as shining lights in the evening sky.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Balboa Press AU
• Release date: Mar 27, 2013
• ISBN: 9781452509402

Diana Gordon

Diana was educated at Columba College in Dunedin. She gained a hairdressing diploma in Christchurch and then studied iridology and herbs with Drs. Bernard Jensen and Eugene Watson and hypnotherapy with Dr. Ormond McGill, all from the United States. Throughout the 1980s and 1990s, she gained certificates in Touch for Health, aromatherapy, Jin shin Do, reflexology, and massage. She helped start Taoist Tai Chi in New Zealand and taught it for many years. She has been a guest speaker on natural health and wellbeing, as well as speaking about grief to Lions, Rotary, Zonta, and many other organisations.

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Copyright © 2013 Diana Gordon

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Balboa Press rev. date: 03/23/2013

Contents

Acknowledgments

Introduction

Chapter 1 Sudden Death

Chapter 2 Bindy

Chapter 3 Kew Hospital, Invercargill

Chapter 4 Please help my Daughter

Chapter 5 A Vision

Chapter 6 Death Strikes Twice

Chapter 7 Aaron’s Funeral

Chapter 8 My Son Aaron

Chapter 9 My Childhood Years

Chapter 10 Teens, Marriage & Premonitions

Chapter 11 Meanwhile back at Kew Hospital

Chapter 12 Dark Clouds Gather

Chapter 13 Rotorua—the Challenge

Chapter 14 All sorts of Therapies

Chapter 15 The Journey to Empowerment

Chapter 16 The Road Travelled

Chapter 17 The Tin Lizzie Story & The Little Red Heart

Chapter 18 Wakatipu is in the womb of Uluru

Chapter 19 There is no Death

Chapter 20 Love is All there Is

Conclusion I am Alive—My Children are Alive

Mother Teresa

St Francis of Assisi

Recommended Reading

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FOR

Aaron & Belinda Gordon

I would like to thank Adrian Snoodijk my friend and partner who has loved and supported me through the long hard years of recovery. I shall always be very grateful to him.

To Doug Gordon, who was a loving father to his children Aaron & Belinda and has endured much.

I would like to also dedicate this book to my parents Genny & Lofty Rutherford who were the best parents one could have. To my dear ‘old’ Aunt Elsepeth, who faithfully looked after us all—my mother, her brother (my father) Aaron and I—in our time of need. She was a tower of strength and gave up her career to take care of us.

To all of my friends who have departed this world for the ‘next’. What wonderful teachers they have been. I learned much about life and dying because of them. I will always be so grateful for the lessons they offered. I look forward to meeting up with them all again in the future.

Ken & Elma Farmer, Francie & Rex Williams, Shirley Wardhaugh, Jim Penney, Gordana Nedeljkovic, Richard Challinor, Jenni Fitz, John Little, Oma Bolt, Shirley Dods, Helen McCuskie (formerly Caton)

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Acknowledgments

I would like to thank my sister Rosalyn who spent many happy hours with both Aaron and Bindy as they were growing up. While attending College in Christchurch she came to live with us and helped look after Aaron and me. I was suffering a severe case of morning sickness while pregnant with Bindy and could not function very well. After Bindy was born she spent many happy hours playing and looking after both children—she was devastated when they died—as was my brother David, who lived in Whangarei at the time. He was not around much—but he loved them too. Thank you also to my stepmother Vonda who took great care of my father and Aaron. Aaron loved going to stay with them at Ruby Bay.

To all of my Queenstown friends who were so kind and thoughtful—who supported us in many, many ways—cooking meals, weeding the garden, babysitting, and lots of other daily chores—to just lending a listening ear, and letting us express our grief. There were so many people, from the doctors and the nursing staff at Frankton Hospital—to Queenstown Golf Club, Queenstown Play Centre—to my bosses at Walter Peak Tours and Pacific Real Estate who were so kind and helpful. Thank you.

A special thank you to Sylvia & Graeme Donaldson, Thea Burgi, Helen McCuskey ( formerly Caton) & Noel Caton, Judy & Ron Stewart—who all went out of their way to help and support the Gordons/Rutherfords in our time of need during those tough years.

Thank you also to the Rotorua group who supported and helped me when Aaron died—and to those who offered and volunteered their time to help me at Zodiac Books when Mara left—especially Teina Duke who has become like a sister to me. She now lives on the Gold Coast, Australia and I visit her and her family often. And to my dear friend and ‘other’ mother Maggie Rex.

There are many people—from all over NZ and Australia—who over the years have supported me and have been there for me when the going got tough—so many—too numerous to name—they will know who they are—I truly thank them even though their names do not appear here. I am sure I would not be the person I am today without the love and care that all these people have given me. Bless them.

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Introduction

These writings were never intended to be a book—just a record of my memories and experiences that happened to me after the deaths of my children. My journal became a place of solace—I could express all my feelings and ideas without having to worry what people would think. I am not exactly sure when I first began to write about the events that happened. It was not immediately—I was too shocked and shattered. I did not always note the date when I made entries into my journal.

I would write a few paragraphs and then throw the journal into a drawer beside my bed, and forget about it for months on end—in some cases, years on end before picking up the thread and continuing the story. It became a dairy of happenings, feelings, thoughts, ideas, hopes, dreams and spiritual musings. It became a way to understand and heal myself. In the late 1990’s several friends read some of my writings, and could not put it down. They wanted to know more, and suggested I write a book. I kind of shrugged my shoulders and said that there were many books out there on the subject of death and dying, and forgot about it.

Several more years went by—more entries into the journal about the events in my life. My Father had died by this time 1996, and a clairvoyant gave me a message from my Dad saying that I ought to finish the book I was writing—he would assist me get it published—as I had helped get his book published in 1989. I was amazed when this lady gave me the message—but—more years went by, and for all sorts of reasons I did not finish writing the ‘book’. So much was happening! I developed a serious infection in my mouth due to root canals that failed—causing osteomyelitis of the jaw bone which incapacitated me on and off for over three years. I could not cope with the thought of having to write a book.

At the beginning of this year 2013 I bumped into fellow student who had studied computer level 2 with me—I had not seen him for over two years and he said to me,

Have you finished writing your book yet? I felt like I had been given an electric shock when I heard him ask me that question. He repeated, have you finished your book Di?

No, I replied, feeling as though I had been given a ‘kick in the butt’ from Spirit—namely my father. Dad could be very persistent! I went home, got onto the computer and finished the story.

It is my own very personal journey—warts and all. No two people experience grief or sorrow in the same way, or search for meaning the way I have. My path was at times strange and yet very powerful. It has been a journey of self-discovery and healing. I am very grateful for all the experiences that have happened to me—even though some of them have been extremely difficult and challenging. It is not a path that many perhaps would take—but rest assured, you the reader, will eventually heal yourself of grief and sorrow in your own unique way. Grief is not a permanent state to be in unless you choose it to be.

We have choice how to respond to the circumstances that we find ourselves in. I chose to live fully again. It is my hope that you the reader will be uplifted and perhaps inspired by my journey through darkness, despair and sorrow back into the ‘light’.

You are all greatly blessed, and you are all greatly loved.

Namaste—go in peace and trust that you will be taken care of.

God sends children for another purpose than merely to keep up the race—to enlarge our hearts; and to make us unselfish and full of kindly sympathies and affections; to give our souls higher aims; to call out all our faculties to extended enterprise and exertion; and to bring round our firesides bright faces, happy smiles, and loving tender hearts.—My soul blesses the great Father, every day that he has gladdened the earth with little children.

(Mary Howitt)

Children are God’s apostles sent forth, day by day to preach of love, and hope and peace.

(J.R. Lowell)

Every child born into the world is a new thought of God, an ever-fresh and radiant possibility.

(Kate Douglas Wiggin)

"I love to think of my children

Whom God has called to Himself,

As away at school at

The best school in the universe,

under the best teachers,

learning the best things, in

the best possible manner."

(Bossuet)

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Chapter 1

Sudden Death

July 29 th 1974, a cold wet dark winter’s night. The road up ahead seemed clear enough, but the orange overhead street lights threw shadows on the wet road. It was after 6.30pm and we were in the mini heading home to Frankton from Queenstown.

Suddenly from nowhere there was a bus looming down on us. I yelled out, Look out, a bus, and tried to grab the steering wheel, and turn the car hard left out of the way of the on-coming bus. Time stood still, everything appeared to happen in slow motion. There was an almighty bang! I was flung forward onto the dash board, then flung back again like a rag doll. There was an eerie silence. I turned and looked behind me, and saw the bus still moving, and pulling over to the side of the road.

I then became aware of sounds in the car. Dreadful, horrible sounds. Moaning, gasping and wheezing sounds. There was blood everywhere, and I was not sure who it was coming from. The two children Aaron and Bindy were in the back seat, and my husband Doug was driving. I tried to reach around to touch the children, and to see how they were. I noticed Aaron was unconscious and slumped against the smashed side window, his head bleeding profusely. Trying to twist further to see Bindy was more difficult. She had been sitting behind me. Doug was jammed hard up against me with the force of the collision, and I was unable to get more than a glimpse of her. She was sitting fairly up-right, blood pouring out her nose and mouth. Her head covered with her hood from her wind-breaker. I remember thinking that it definitely did not look good.

Oh my God, they are all dying. I could sense the life-force draining out of them all except me. It was a weird feeling. Then I began to panic, and kept saying over and over again, they are all dying, they are all dead—oh my God, oh my God, please don’t die. Please don’t die. I felt so alone and very, very frightened. It was in this state that I glimpsed my mother at the scene. It was a quick ‘flash’ then gone. Somewhere in my shocked state, I remember wondering why she was there, but it passed so quickly I forgot about it until later that night at the hospital. I felt so alone, so alone and very, very frightened. I felt so helpless, so powerless. There was nothing I could do at that moment but pray.

After what seemed an interminable time there were people, voices at the side of the car. There was a female voice telling me to put my hands either side of Doug’s head to hold it steady in case there had been a spinal injury. As I did so, I remember thinking that she must be a nurse because she seemed to know what she was talking about. I felt relieved. Help had arrived. Someone instructed me to turn off the car engine, and reassured me that the ambulance was on its way, and not to worry. I remember giving people telephone numbers of family members in Christchurch, that under normal circumstances I simply would not have remembered. It seemed to take forever for the ambulance to arrive, but in actual fact it was not very long at all. As I was assisted from the car, I looked up and saw my girlfriend Thea arrive on the scene with blankets. She got such a shock to see me, and I was so relieved to see someone I knew and was especially close to. Her husband had been first on the scene, but he had not recognized us.

I was piled into the passenger’s seat of the ambulance, as there was no room for me in the back. Thea hopped in with me while they cut open the back of the mini to free the children and to get Doug out. I don’t remember much of the scene or how long it took to get to the Frankton hospital. All I know was that I was rushed into the Matron’s office while the children and Doug were treated in the hospital corridor and in the small operating theater. Frankton hospital in those days was a small very old cottage hospital, and the facilities were fairly limited. All major accidents or surgical procedures were referred to Kew Hospital, Invercargill, roughly two hours away.

I could hear muffled noises in the corridor from the matron’s office, and was aware of the urgency of the doctors and nursing staff working on my family. Thea remained with me all this time, and I kept saying to her that they all were dead.

No, no surely not, yes one of the children had died. Which one, Aaron or Bindy? Oh my God what’s happened here?

I remember wavering from Aaron to Bindy, from Bindy to Aaron as to who had died. My deepest instincts as a mother told me that I had definitely lost a child, even though I had not yet been told. From time to time the nursing staff would pop in to see how I was, and to get information on the family. My father, who the medical staff knew well, was the local relieving chemist, and was on holiday in America. Dr. Pat Farry was frantically trying to locate him, as the situation was potentially very serious. I had not been told at this time, as both Drs. Farry and Airey were so busy preparing the family for the journey by ambulance to Kew Hospital in Invercargill. At some stage, I was told that the ambulance was about to leave. I tearfully begged to be allowed to go with them, but was gently persuaded that there was not enough room for me, that they had to work on the family in the ambulance. They would take me to Kew the next day.

I was then admitted to the women’s ward, and my facial injuries seen to. I clearly remember both Doctors Pat Farry and Phil Airey coming into the ward and sitting down on the end of my bed looking quite shattered. I was told the situation was serious, that the family was gravely injured, and that in the next 24-36 hours we would have some answers. It was news that I did not want to hear. I wanted to cover my ears and scream at them to go away, that it was all a terrible nightmare. That I would wake up in the morning and everything would be all right. But they did not go away, and they sat there and looked at the ground, running out of things to say. What could they say? They both knew the outcome, but hoped against hope that they were wrong, and just could not tell me about Bindy. As they left the ward, friends came and went. In a small town the news travels fast. I was very grateful for the love and concern that people showed to me and to my family at that time, but I was not fully ‘present’ in my mind. The shock of what was happening to me was beginning to set in. When the vicar arrived, I knew then that someone was about to die. He of course did not have any news then either, but being the caring man that he was, he came out to the hospital. We had just lost my mother in the February of lung cancer, and we had seen a lot of him over that troubled time.

Time stood still. It was as if I was in a time warp somewhere. My mind refused to accept that the accident had happened. I was in denial, shock and kept thinking that I would wake up out of this terrible nightmare, and all would be well. Then I remembered I had ‘seen’ my mother at the scene of the accident. My mother had died in February, but I know I had seen her at the scene of the accident, and it began to play on my mind, that she had somehow come to take my children from me. In my great emotional distress I felt that she had not wanted to die without taking her beloved grandchildren with her. So I began to speak with such vehemence.

How dare she, how dare she, I said over and over again. What are you talking about? said Thea. My mother, I said, she has come to take my kids. How dare she.

Sssh, Thea replied, of course she hasn’t. Your mother loved her grandchildren, and she would not take them away from their mother.

Yes, she has, I sobbed, She’s taken one of them, I know. I know one of my children has died. I just know. But which one, which one. I bet its Aaron. She was closer to him, because he was the first grandchild, and she saw him just after he was born. It must be him—no, no, I think it’s Bindy. How could she—how could she?

I was beside myself, frantically trying to sort something out in my confusion. Intuitively knowing that there was definitely a death of one of the children, but because of being so shattered, I couldn’t focus long enough, or steady myself to listen to my ‘Inner Teacher’. I kept muttering to myself.

Shut up Di, Thea said desperately thinking that they would lock me away for going insane. Shut up, I say. I know about ‘these things’, but people here do not understand, and may think that you have totally ‘lost’ it. Now stop it, and pull yourself together. Your Mother would be there to help you, not to take your children away. So think about that, said Thea.

I looked at her through my pain. Oh such pain! My stomach felt as though it had been ripped apart, and my body felt as though it had been run over by a steamroller. I felt sick to my guts. Part of my life had been ripped away. Part of me had already died. I could feel it. Yet there was no news of any death. The vicar came back into the ward, just as I was saying once again, that one of my children had died. By this time another dear friend Helen had arrived, and they all tried to reassure me that there was no news as yet, as the ambulance had not reached Invercargill. But I knew. A mother knows. Deep inside the grieving had already begun.

In my mind I kept seeing my mother’s face at the scene of the accident. It kept flashing into my mind. I kept quiet about it however, and it was not until some weeks later that it was all made clear to me by my Teachers and Guides in Spirit why she had been there. I had seen my mother all right, but in my shock had misinterpreted why she had come. To this day, I don’t know why I tried to blame her, but when one is in an agitated state of mind, is traumatized and in deep shock, one does not always see clearly. One is not able to put all the pieces together and make sense of it.

From time to time friends were coming and going from the ward, and I was not always aware of who was there. But there came a moment when I was aware of the vicar, who seemed to be ‘hovering’, and all the others had quietly disappeared accept for Helen and Thea. His voice penetrated my mind, and I tried to focus on what he was saying.

I’m afraid, Di, he said, Bindy did not make it. She died in the ambulance on the way to Kew. I’m so sorry my dear. Time stood still. I was not hearing this. I