... since I lost my son. I… Honestly I don’t know what to do with myself today. I tried to be quiet, I tried to keep busy. I just feel very heavy. I wanted a drink quite badly earlier, I’ve had a little cry and the worst of it has passed.
The worst bit is, I think I’m starting to forget things. I remember the words to explain how very dark blue his eyes were, but not the sight of the colour itself. I can’t remember how many eyelashes he had, or how many veins I could see through his skin on his head.
Is that bad? Is it wrong that while I feel pretty crappy today, I’ve mostly just felt heavy and tired the last few days. I used to feel like there was broken shards in my chest, now it just feels old. Like it was a lifetime ago. Very sad, and very painful. But not close, not right here.
I kept thinking about what kind of a boy he’d have been. I mean, if he’d survived, at birth, or at full term. Either way he’d have been seven this year. What books would he be reading? Or would he not be a keen reader? Would ha have been the kind of little boy with scrapes on his knees, or the kind that’s quiet and neat? Would he have his daddy’s temper? Or his cleverness? Would he have had my stubborness?
I’ve stayed sober again this year. That’s good right? That means I’ve spent his 5th, 6th and 7th birthday in a row without resorting to drink to block it out. And his tree is in bud which is nice. I wish I had a picture though. or one of those memorial box things they do nowadays. Hell, it’d be nice if I had stuck around to find out what their version of ‘do you want us to handle it?’ was. All I have is the onesie I bought when I found out I was having him, and the apple tree I planted what, four years after he died.