Hello my darling boy.
I have been sitting today reading and reflecting on the last 10 years of my life. My world and how it is without you in it. I am beyond recognition in many ways, I am no longer the person I was and in so many ways I am not the broken hearted mother who wrote all of these angry, sore, painful blogs, but in many ways I still very much am.
There has been no real way to manage life without you, other than to learn to adapt. Time and the change has been phenomenal, but it has brought its own growths with it too.
You are still missed every second of every day. We still talk to you out loud, and we still wish you good night as we always did before. We still include you in all of our plans, you are included in our experiences, and you are still very much our first thought and our last thought.
The last few months has brought experiences that we never could have expected. Situations where we have been expected to apologise for our grief to people we thought were close to us, to apologise for how your loss has impacted on us and the ripple effect to others near to us and how they deal with things like loss of their own. We will not carry that responsibility, our journey is ours, and our own weight of it is heavy.
Ten years has taught us survival tools, it has taught us what to say or not to say to a person experiencing grief. It has also taught us to never apologise for our grief, or to make excuses for it. You were here physically with us, now spiritually, and as your parents we continue to adapt to life without you in it as the milestones still continue and our grief journey never ends.
I had a very interesting conversation with someone a few weeks ago Haydon. I asked them if they stop thinking about their children when they are in bed, or at school camp, or if they are out at the shops, or staying with relatives. They answered 'no'. I explained that just because you are not here, you are still in our minds every single second of every single day, except you aren't going to just walk in the door, or text to say you are fine and having a nice time...you are in a room much further away, with a door we cannot open. It does not change how we feel about you as our child, or change how much we miss you.
I was told that this explanation was the clearest description of life after child loss that they had never heard, and it put a brand new perspective on how life is when you have lost a child and they would never think the way they did before, a time when they thought the loss surely must get easier with time.
10 years. I don't know how we have did it but we know you are a big part of that drive to continue. Your wee face bringing comfort to so many people, is not something we can describe in measurements of our pride for you. You always were our miniature super hero, and you still are.
We are not looking forward to this milestone. We know that this one will be so hard.
Time has brought lots changes in our support network, and many many people no longer mention your name. Many friends and even family don't even acknowledge that you were with us, or even acknowledge the deep hole you left in us when you left anymore. That has only caused bridges in closeness and more emotional distance, and that is now becoming too big a space to refill. Some things we can't ignore, and we won't.
The loss community is still a very large part of Mummy's life, and without many of these Mummies I would be lost and have few people to talk to when the feelings get too much. I am so thankful for them, and the friendships are real and reciprocated.
Bring us signs on your anniversary, show us that you are near. We trust in you, and we know that you will do this xxxx Huge love my beautiful boy, hold us up with your superhero arms xxx
forever and always ours, Mummy and Daddy. xxxx
