Monday 13th April
I cried for you before I got up out of bed this morning. The hurt in my throat and chest seems to be there each day as I wake. I cried when we met two people on our walk into town, who spoke about you, and gave their condolences. I cried when I went to the bank and cancelled my direct debits into your account ~ your ‘pocket money’. I cried when I bought your brother a birthday card, knowing you will never receive one ever again. I cried some more when we visited your graveside to water the flowers and talk to you this afternoon.
No one really knows the depth of grief we are feeling at the moment. Our thirty year old autistic son, diagnosed with testicular cancer, was our companion. He didn’t go off and make his own way in the world, meet a girl, make her his wife, or have children. He depended on us totally. And we did everything for him, with him, based around him: he was our life. He was there, with us, always. Fun, cheeky, surprising, caring, chatty, loving.
Our lives have been changed forever. An emptiness is there, that nothing it seems, can fill. We will go on, because I’m sure he would want that, but our hearts are broken.
Nothing, absolutely nothing in this world prepares you for the unbelievable sense of loss and grief that comes when you lose your child. Parents should never, ever have to bury their child. His younger brother should not have to bear the pain of losing his sibling. There is no time limit for grief. It remains with us all, in different ways, forever.
Our son is gone, but until the last breath we take, he lives on in our hearts. His spirit is with us. The memories we have are wonderful, and we will treasure those. It’s all that we can do.