Wednesday 8th April

Today we bury our elder son.

Husband and I, younger son and girlfriend, sister, her husband and their daughter. A small family group to pay our very last respects to our dear boy.

The hearse pulls away a little after 10:30am, the coffin adorned with yellow sunflowers, He Man’s sword on a bed of white chrysanthemums, wreaths, sprays and bouquets. And spelt out alongside is his name. F R A N K.

We follow in a black limousine. We take a very slow drive through the narrow, and quite busy streets of the town. Along the harbour front with the sea sparkling, the sun shining in a perfect blue sky. He would walk for hours along the wharf. Then we turn up through more winding roads, and past the surfing beach, where he would wander along the sand. And then up the hill where we live. Countless times he would have walked up and down these roads, so we had to take him on one last journey. Unbelievably heartbreaking to think he will no longer be able to do this

The cemetery is only a couple of miles out of town, and we drive slowly along in silence. Pulling in, the songbirds are a joy to hear, the pink hibiscus are flowering along the driveway, and everything seems peaceful and still. We draw to a stop, get out of the car, and watch the coffin being taken up to the grave. White ribbon straps are attached, and as it is slowly lowered the church Father says prayers and commends our son to eternal life. We are all sobbing. We cast some soil on to the top of the coffin, then a sunflower each, that our younger son has brought along. We each say something, and tell Frank we love him so much.

We ask that the white flowered pillow with He Man’s sword be placed on top of the coffin. After about twenty minutes it is time to leave. We say our tearful goodbyes and head home.

Later on that afternoon though, my husband and I drive out to the cemetery, and see the mound where our son is buried. The flowers look beautiful, and cover the grave completely. There is a simple wooden cross with our son’s name on, and the flower letters spread along the length of where he lays. His final resting place. We break down. We cry and cry. We just cannot believe what has happened. He was so close to kicking this disease. Why did our amazing son have to be so cruelly taken from us?

It is something to which we will never have an answer.

We spend a few quiet moments talking, crying, tending to the flowers. And then it’s time to leave. We tell him we’ll be back tomorrow.

Monday 6th April

Today is the last chance we have to visit you in the Chapel of Rest. It is so painful to see you lying there. You have all you need to take to heaven. The dolphin and teddy can play with the angels with you, you can read your books and watch your videos.

No more chemotherapy, no more drugs, no more blood transfusions. Your pain has gone. You are now cancer free.

But I just wish you were here to spend a lot more time with us. We weren’t ready for you to go. We had so much more planned when you got better.

It hurts us so much that we will never hear your voice or your laugh, we will not be able to have cuddles or to hold your hand. You will have to do this with the angels.

We are left with so many happy memories of you, and you will forever be in our hearts and thoughts. Everywhere we go, you will be with us.

Darling child. We love you so, so much xxx

Sunday 5th April

We visit our Easter Angel this morning. So cold, eyes shut, no smiles, lying still. Are you peacefully playing up in heaven? We do hope so. Again we let you know our love for you is boundless, unconditional, everlasting. We miss you even more today, than we did yesterday. We miss every single thing about you. You were so innocent and childlike.

You will be forever young. Your spirit is all around us. We lit candles in the church for you again.

I spent such a long time this evening putting together a slideshow of photographs. So many good times, happy memories, amazing adventures.

We cried a lot today.

Friday 3rd April

Visiting you is so painful, but we need to come and see you. We cannot leave you lonely, all by yourself.

We have to come and tell you we love you, we miss you, we desperately wish you could be here with us. Our little Angel in heaven.

We love you so much, to the moon and back, and all the world. Today, yesterday and forevermore. xxxxx

Thursday 2nd April

We go for a coffee with all the family, then walk along the seafront with just our younger son. He is very quiet and in a sad, reflective mood. He seems to be bottling up his thoughts and emotions, but we walk with him, stop and stand for a while watching families and dogs playing on the sand.

We have a cup of tea with him, then wander off home.

After much thought and great trepidation, we decide to drive to our local supermarket and coffee shop, where our elder son was so well known.

It’s three weeks this evening since he passed. So suddenly. So unexpectedly. So quickly.

It’s really hard to get out of the car, and go in through the doors. We are met by the coffee shop manager, who has become a good friend to us over the last few years. Hugs, tears, and empathy. We also bump into quite a few more people who express their shock at our loss. It felt quite uncomfortable walking round the aisles. I was almost pleased when we walked out, shopping completed. A big sigh of relief, being able to run away.

When we get home I phone the funeral director’s to ask if we can visit our son in the Chapel of Rest. Within ten minutes we are with him. We did promise him yesterday we’d be back today. And it was no easier. The pain we both felt as we looked upon him was unbearable. We just wanted to warm him up and bring him back to life. Our grief is just immense. We have lost such a huge part of our lives.

But we kept our promise. It was difficult and traumatic again for my husband to go in. But a promise is a promise, and our son would have wanted us to keep to our word.

Night night Angel xxx