Sunday 29th March
It’s been sixteen days, twenty one and a half hours since you fell asleep and gained your Angel wings. And I cannot tell you how much I miss you and love you so, so much. I think about you every waking moment.
Every single morning a huge wave of sadness envelopes us. This has turned into the norm. And I don’t like it one bit.
We wake. We cry. We try. We ask why. The motivation to get going is just not there. Our family is broken. Our home is silent and still.
It takes a huge effort to leave the house this morning, and even as we do, I’m sobbing before we reach the end of the road. I don’t think I’ll ever accept that you’re never coming back. But I want to hold onto the good memories, I need to tell myself you have no more suffering, and I need to believe you truly are an Angel. Your soul is still with us. You will remain in my heart forever.
Spending the afternoon with our younger son and his girlfriend, yet again, is what we do, and it feels so comforting and just right. Copious cups of tea, and a lovely chicken curry are placed before us. We talk, we go out for a walk, we watch some television.
As we are leaving we have to ask him something. We want to know if there’s anything he would particularly like to be placed with his brother in the coffin. Such an awful question to have to put to him, but we need to know his wishes. He says there is a book in my mum’s attic that my father had made for them. A little book about two brothers who go fishing. It is personalised with their names.
So, having left our son’s flat, we go home via my mum’s, and find this particular book. And that then has my husband and I hugging and sobbing in each other’s arms. Such a touching thing to think of. I had completely forgotten about this book. Made for the boys in 2001, whilst we were in Australia.
We finally make it back to our own quiet house. Now I really must think of the clothes we want our son to be dressed in. You see, he’s off for afternoon tea at the Ritz Hotel in London, and he needs to look ‘posh and sophisticated’. The black velvet jacket he pestered me to buy will serve it’s purpose very well. And the white t-shirt his brother brought back from Spain; still in its packet. He will also need the Ritz teddy bear my sister bought for his thirtieth birthday. And a turquoise and white dolphin. His tablet, full of downloaded songs and television programmes. A silver St Christopher we gave to him on his eighteenth as well. All things he will need to travel safely and free from pain.
Tomorrow when we wake, we will have much more of a purpose. We’re coming to visit you, our Angel son. To sit with you. To talk to you. To tell you we love you. To the moon and back. And all the world. Forevermore.