Friday 24th July
“If there ever comes a day
when we can’t be together,
keep me in your heart,
I’ll stay there forever.”
And you are in my heart, in my thoughts, in my mind, constantly. And there you will now remain.
Missing you so much, today and every day.
Precious Angel xxx
Thursday 23rd July
“Since you’ve been gone, I talk to you when I feel the need to…. I share my hopes and my thoughts with you…. To me, you are just as real now as you were when I could see you…. Yes, you are my angel.”
Nineteen Thursdays ago you fell asleep in our bed, and did not wake up again.
Although I tried my hardest to save you, you went to heaven as I held you.
You gained your Angel wings so very unexpectedly, and flew away.
Since that day, there has not been a moment that I haven’t thought of you.
You meant so much to so many, but to us, you were everything.
We love you to the moon and back, and every waking moment we miss you.
Take flight my Angel.
Sending kisses to you.
xxx
Wednesday 22nd July
“I loved you your entire life and
I will miss you the rest of mine.
You will forever be my always
Forever young.”
Fifteen weeks ago today we laid you to rest.
Daily we have come to your graveside.
You will always be our thirty year old son.
Sweet child.
Lovely boy.
Darling Angel.
xxxx
The harbour today at low tide.
Tuesday 21st July
Sunshine. It certainly does lift the spirits. Today feels quite summery, and just the sort of weather to take an afternoon walk/stroll/meander/hike, call it what you wish.
Today my new walking sandals arrive through the mail. This is the footwear that will help me climb a mountain. Hhhmmm, I jolly well hope so.
In eighteen days, myself, my husband and sister plan to climb Mount Snowdon in Wales. (None of us are wonderfully fit, or seasoned walkers, so it will be a challenge. Hence the daily walks as some sort of preparation).
We are doing this in memory of our son, and joining the annual testicular cancer trek. Survivors and family members take part, and walk the Llanberis Path to the summit. A 7km winding route, with a height gain of 945m, to reach the summit which is 1085m above sea level.
How long will it take us? Estimates have been given as anything between three and a half to five and half hours each way. Whatever the actual time, we know it’s not a race; to make the ascent and stand on the summit will be an amazing moment for all of us.
We will each take you with us in our hearts.
Fly high my beloved Angel.
xxxx
Monday 20th July
What a mizzley old morning. Heavy, sparkling mist and fine, soaking drizzle combine to create Cornish mizzle. It seems to be blowing horizontally as we leave the house depositing water droplets on your face, clothes and hair. It’s not cold though, just grey and grotty.
We don’t see anyone else in the cemetery, probably because of the miserable weather. But the mizzle is giving the grass a good soaking, and keeping all the flowers and leaves well-watered.
By the afternoon we are ready for our walk, and the sun is coming out. So are the hordes of tourists; they seem to be everywhere. But it is good for the town, to see the place so busy.
We chat awhile with an old sea-faring, children’s bookwriter. He is enjoying sitting on the wall in the sunshine, watching the world go by. Perhaps he is getting ideas for his next book about his own world travels as a grandfather. Previously he has written about the adventures of a teddy bear from the town.
I think we will take the soft toy dolphin, that is lying on your bed, on our own travels. Perhaps I will write stories of it’s exploits too. Frank the Dolphin’s Excellent Expedition.
Sleep tight my precious Angel.
Love you so very much.
xxx
Sunday 19th July
Is it peculiar or a little weird to make daily visits to a cemetery? Are we being odd or a little crazy? Do we keep prolonging our grief?
No, the answer, from me, is no to all of the above. We come to your graveside because we love you, and we need to tell you every day. We want to be close to your spirit, to let you know you aren’t alone.
We find it hard to absorb the reality that you are no longer with us. We are having to adjust our souls, not to carry on without you, but to carry you within us, forevermore.
This afternoon it was so peaceful there. Only joyful birdsong could be heard. A squirrel ran up the trunk of a large pine tree, and a collarless black cat sauntered past.
I will think of you in my sleepless solitude tonight, as I do every night. You are in my heart and mind always.
We miss you.
We’re here for you.
We love you.
Angel son xxxx
Saturday 18th July
We’ve just returned from a leisurely stroll around the harbour and the beach. So many holidaymakers wandering around eating ice creams or fish and chips ~ the seagulls are having a great time swooping down and stealing food.
By the time we get to the surfing beach it is high tide and the sun is about to fall beneath a large bank of cloud. It’s still warm though, and many people are sitting on the sand, even though it’s almost 9pm. The smell from many barbecues fills the air, as families tuck into their alfresco meals.
We are then treated to a wonderful display of dolphins jumping and twisting out of the water. You would have loved watching them. A little further on, and we see a seal swimming not too far from the shore. There is much pointing and oohs and aahs from those on the beach. Perhaps a once in a lifetime sighting for those inner-city dwellers ~ we are so fortunate to live where we do.
As the sun was going down, there was a little prism of rainbow colours to the east of the sun. It reminded me of a few lines in a poem:
“Time for me to leave you
I won’t say goodbye.
Look for me in rainbows
High up in the sky.
In the evening sunset
When all the world is through,
Just look for me and love me
And I’ll be close to you.”
Was that a little sign that you were close by this evening?
Rainbows and dolphins?
Who knows?
Sleep tight my precious little Angel
We love you so very much.
xxxxx
Friday 17th July
Having had my weekly lymphoedema massage appointment, where I lay blissfully enjoying the nothingness of total relaxation, we spend an hour on the beach watching your brother kite surfing.
He is becoming quite good, and really enjoys being out in the water. His girlfriend, who is still on antibiotics, has to take it easy for another week or so, otherwise she would be in the water too. She is a kite surfing instructor, and has passed her passion for the sport onto your brother. He comes out of the sea briefly, to greet us, with a big smile upon his face, then goes straight back in again, whizzing up and down the bay.
I think you would have been rather impressed by his competence, and proud of him, too. He hasn’t long taken up the sport, but seems to be a very quick learner.
Two horses were cantering along the beach, at the water’s edge, whilst we were there. Now that is something I know you would have loved to do this afternoon. Splashing about in the sea, with the sun and wind blowing against your face, whilst on horseback.
Sweet Angel, we miss you so.
We’re always thinking of you.
Ride free and jump over clouds.
Smiling at whatever you do.
Love you forever xxx
Thursday 16th July
Preparing to go out this morning I am interrupted by a phone call from my dermatology nurse. She has the results of the lesion excision on my arm, two weeks ago. And the offending alien blob is called a dysplastic naevus. Sounds quite weird, like a synthetic cloud formation. But no, it’s an unusual, benign mole, that looks like melanoma, and you can’t tell if it’s dangerous or not, until it’s sent to the pathology lab. Therefore it must be surgically removed.
So, I’m left with a small scar, and a bit of an indent in my upper arm, but a huge sense of relief, dispelling the anxiety I’ve had for the last fortnight. Melanoma does that to you, the knowledge that it could come back, one day, sneakily, when you’re not expecting it. So, vigilance is the key, combined with regular check-ups. And maybe a few precautionary scars along the way.
This afternoon was #4 of my Cognitive Behaviour Therapy course. The topics covered today were Panic Attacks and Sleep Problems. Woo hoo.
Although I have never had a panic attack, I can relate to some of the typical actions and physical symptoms: foot tapping, sighing, palpitations, sweating, nausea, hot flushes, choking sensations, faintness, upset stomach.
Much of this could be the result of the imbalance of oxygen and carbon dioxide in my body, due to poor breathing and stress. Time to sort out the deep relaxation techniques and diaphragmatic breathing, methinks.
I do, however, have a problem getting to sleep, and then staying asleep. To much to think about, worry about, stress about. I’m restless, tossing, turning, clock watching, can’t switch off. And then I get cross because I cannot fall asleep, and that just makes it worse.
I do try some deep breathing techniques, drink decaffeinated tea, try to walk a reasonable amount every day, no big meals before bedtime, no phone or television in the bedroom, blackout curtains, window slightly open, and sleeping pills.
But the elusive good night’s sleep is eluding me at the moment. My thoughts always return to my son. He is everywhere around me and within me. It’s Thursday again, so it’s eighteen weeks, or one hundred and twenty six days since he gained his angel wings. And we still cry at his graveside.
Thinking of you.
Missing you.
Loving you always.
Forever young.
Darling child xx
Wednesday 15th July
Dad spent this afternoon mowing the grass and tidying up the back garden. With all the rain and warm temperatures, the lawn was looking quite unruly.
(By the way, your sunflowers are growing beautifully. No buds as yet, but the stems and leaves are about three feet high. They sure are looking mighty healthy. We’ll try to make your wish come true: when you bought those seeds, you told us you wanted to grow the biggest sunflower ever).
Whilst Dad was mowing and strimming away, I was sitting in the kitchen. The back door was open. I suddenly looked up, and turned my head. Just above my right shoulder was a little sparrow fluttering in the doorway. It had flown through the back door, into the porch, and just hovered a foot above my head. It wasn’t distressed, nor did it flap around flying into walls or windows. The sparrow just looked at me, flapped its wings, turned around and flew back out of the door.
It sure did make me jump. But then I thought, perhaps it was you, come to say hello, and check out how we’re doing. So strange, and quite surreal.
I would so much love to believe it was you, in some form or another. Little signs to let us know that you are still with us. You’ve been gone one hundred and twenty five days. Such a long time, and yet I remember as if it was yesterday.
So, could a bird flying inside the house be considered an angel sent from above? Some sort of comforting messenger?
Love you forever my fluttering little Angel xxxx
The Journey of My Left Foot (whilst remembering my son) 