Monday 20th April

It’s a sunny, blue-sky day. The blossom on the trees in the cemetery is beginning to flower. A bright, vibrant shade of pink. The tree we walk past to reach your graveside is looking beautiful. The sun is shining down on you and the birds are singing for you.

I’m trying so hard to keep it together on these daily visits to you. But despite the beauty of the day, my heart breaks because you are not with us. Our son, fell asleep and gained his angel wings far too soon.

I just find it so difficult to believe that you have gone from our lives. Each day seems without purpose. One blends into another. A long, never-ending stretch of nothingness.

Is this how it’s going to be?

Sunday 19th April

You see, I’m back again. I don’t feel it would be right if I missed a day and didn’t write about you, or how I felt.

It seems as if it would be somehow disrespectful, or might mean that I didn’t care enough. And so here I am. And what to say, today? Not really feeling particularly positive at the moment.

Crying this morning because I miss your voice and your smile and your enthusiasm for the day ahead. Again when we light candles in the church and sit awhile. And again when we go to your graveside. Crying, sobbing, weeping.

We did love you so very, very much, and now that you’re no longer here, we are lost without you.

Time heals. Will it?

You’ll move on. Will we?

The pain will subside. When?

You’ll learn to readjust. Really?

Give grief it’s time. How long?

So many negative thoughts and feelings are flying around right now.

I do need to find some positivity in all this. I look at your photographs and smile with you, at all the fun we had together, traveling the world. We certainly packed in an awful lot of adventures throughout your thirty years.

Remember the good times. The laughs. The joy. The risks. Your happiness. Special moments. Amazing memories. Perfect holidays. Wonderful destinations.

We tried so very hard to give you as good a life as possible.

But nothing can take the pain away right now, thinking of how much we miss you being here with us. xxx

Saturday 18th April

I really am at a loss today in knowing what to write. Do I continue to write about you every single day? Or is it ok if I miss a day or two? It doesn’t mean I love you any less, nor that my grief is subsiding.

In reality, I miss you desperately, every waking moment I’m thinking of you. There are pictures of you everywhere. Reminders of you all over the house.

Will we ‘move on’ without you? No, I don’t think so. You are always going to be in our lives, one way or another.

The cemetery was really cold and windy today, and a small pot of tulips that my sister had placed at your grave had blown over. So we positioned some more stones around the base to keep it upright. I didn’t hear any songbirds this morning either. But it was peaceful there, and we spoke to you about your brother’s birthday yesterday, and how you would have liked his birthday cake.

Sleep tight my darling son.

We love and miss you.

To the moon and back.

And all the world.

xx

Friday 17th April

I suppose there are going to be a lot of these ‘first times’, without you.

Well, today was your brother’s first birthday without you being here. And he did say that he missed opening a card from you. (Even though he knew I was really good at forging your handwriting!)

I was actually going to buy a birthday card from you; one with a lovely photograph of sunflowers, but I thought it might upset our younger son too much.

Anyway, we toasted your health, said how much we missed you, and we knew you were looking down sending kisses our way.

We cried as we walked home after having dinner, thinking of you, and how very much we wish you were still here.

We did go to your graveside this morning and talk about your brother and his birthday. We knew you would want to wish him a happy birthday. In your own way we knew you loved him, and he was so proud of you, too.

We just feel so lost without you. You were such a big presence throughout all our lives.

Thursday 16th April

How long will I keep on counting the weeks since you died?

Every Thursday I remember you. I go through that day in my mind.

I saw you quickly in the morning, before I went off to work. Then later on when you all returned from collecting your brother from the airport. You were happy. You weren’t in any pain. Just a bit tired and not hungry. Going upstairs for a little sleep was the last time we saw you alive.

Five weeks.

Thirty five days.

Eight hundred and forty hours.

Fifty thousand, four hundred minutes.

I remember that day as if it were yesterday. I will never forget.

We are still receiving sympathy cards, (three in the post today). New people come up to us and ask how we are, and say sorry for our loss. And again we visit your graveside, and today we plant some petunias for you. Your floral tributes are still looking beautiful, and we water them carefully to make sure they stay as fresh as possible.

We miss you so very, very much xxxx

Wednesday 15th April

Our grief over the loss of you is immense. For as long as our hearts beat, we will be always missing you.

You had the power to instill within us, such great love and compassion towards you.

You were our life. We lived with you, for you, because of you. And now it’s so damned difficult to live without you.

Your He Man sword on it’s pillow of white flowers is buried with you.

You have the power to live in our hearts forever.

It’s damp and misty when we visit your graveside today, but we must summon up all our strength and power, to talk with you, to share our love for you, to remember the good times, to tell you that you’re safe now.

You are our Starman with Angel wings.

You are He Man who has the power.

Fly free with the angels, sleep peacefully, without pain. Look down on us, and know how deeply we love and miss you xxxx

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.

Sunday 12th April

All around us, we are reminded of you. Yes, your photographs are everywhere, your books and DVD’s neatly lined up, the many, many sympathy cards along the shelves in the lounge, (and no, I don’t know when I’ll take them down). To your shoes and slippers, your coat at the bottom of the stairs, your toothbrush in the bathroom, and your dressing gown still lying on our bed.

You are everywhere, but nowhere.

Again we light candles in the church, then tend to your grave.

We talk to you, but there is no answer.

How we wish you were here with us now. Our hearts are broken.

We just don’t know what to do.

Saturday 11th April

We bring you a bouquet of yellow roses and white carnations today. I place them amongst the sunflowers.

The letters spelling out your name in white chrysanthemums still look beautiful, and we water them, and talk to you, and tell you we love you and miss you so, so much.

We said we wouldn’t cry today, but we did.

Looking at your Auntie’s wreath, she explains her choices for you in ‘The Language of Flowers’:

Alstroemeria ~ Devotion

Cypress ~ Mourning

Eucalyptus ~ Protection

Lungwort ~ You are my life

Moss ~ Maternal love

Myrtle ~ Love

Rosemary ~ Remembrance

White carnation ~ Pure love.

Night night lovely boy xxxx