Sunday 10th May

It ain’t the same. And only the three of us understand exactly what that means. My husband, myself, and you.
We have really been finding it hard these last few days, anything can reduce us to tears, at any time of the day or night. For the last few years our lives were so focused on the three of us, and your passing has left such a massive void. Both our boys were our purpose for living, you both meant everything to us. But a child with special needs requires a little more than most, for a little longer than most. A different way to approach the big, wide world around him.

I thought yesterday, recalling happy, fun memories of you would help me. I thought that writing down adventures and experiences would be cathartic. I need to remember so many events and try and put them into print. I don’t want to forget, or have those memories fade. You were an amazing young man, who left his mark on so many people and places.

But it ain’t the same. That evening I cried and cried and cried. Realising that you will never again be a physical part of our family; nor a part of our holiday planning; you’ll never again give me a cuddle just before bedtime; you won’t grab my hand to cross the road. You’ll never sit in the back seat of our car, nor strap yourself into an aeroplane seat, to travel the world with us.

Standing beside your graveside today we watch the planes overhead, leaving their white trails in the sky, and we wonder what we’ll do now, without you to fly away with us. Are you flying and soaring high with the angels? I do hope that’s what you’re doing. With a big smile on your face, too.

Love you. Love you. Love you.
xxxxx