Friday 13th March
Empty. Numb. Heartbroken. Lost.
Our son is gone.
The house is quiet.
But everywhere there are reminders of him.
Not least the Get Well cards, 30th Birthday cards, and soon to be joined by the sympathy cards.
Mid-morning there is a knock on the door. It is the postman.
There is a box containing a bouquet of pink and white carnations.
My son had arranged with my mother-in-law to have them sent for Mother’s Day.
A card inside says With Love from him.
This is just unbelievably heartbreaking.
The last thing he did for me.
And here they are, the morning after he went to heaven.
Why him? Why now? Why this ending?
He still had so much to do.
He was planning our summer holiday.
He was thinking of our trip to London to have afternoon tea at the Ritz Hotel, to be followed by a trip to the London Dungeons.
Today was Day 100 of his chemotherapy.
It would have been finished this afternoon.
We were going to celebrate.
He was quite looking forward to visiting the nurses one last time.
But it was not to be.
He didn’t quite make it.
I still see his little face looking up at me.
I still feel his tiny hand clasped in mine.
My son. My child. My baby.
Taken far too soon.
What a massive void he has left behind.
He was so caring, loving, polite, but cheeky too, and a scamp at times.
He had a wicked sense of humour, and delivered some great put-downs!
He is in my heart forever.
An angel in heaven.
Happy, pain free, and watching over us.
I love you so, so much.
To the moon and back.
Love you more.
And all the world.
Sleep tight my darling boy.