It's here, at last. The memory box we commissioned for Bertie has arrived. I love it. It is exactly how I pictured it. He whispered to me, helped me find the right man to make it. It is beautifully crafted, it really is stunning. The wood is so smooth, the marquetry looks like it could have been printed on. I am delighted with it. So why am I sobbing?
I must need the release. The memory box has triggered the memories. It has reminded me of his missingness. Of the memories we haven't made, won't make. Of the toys I wish I were buying him instead. Can we really be approaching our third Christmas without him? Can this really still be my life?
I haven't filled it yet. I can't bring myself to do it. That means going through his things, his little life, and putting them away into their new home. It needs time. It needs respect. It needs my full attention and love. It demands the raw hurt and tears that I can't face right now. Just having it is bittersweet enough for tonight.
My son. His life story in one box, his body in another. To others, a name, a memory, a whisper. To me, the world.
I just want to hold him again.
So now I’m an angel mummy
My future dreams all gone
I have a box of memories
Of my perfect, precious son
Photographs just aren’t enough
I want to hold you near
I want to see your toothless smile
And gaze at eyes bright and clear
I wish that I could see you grow
And comfort all your hurts
But that was never meant to be
What pain could ever be worse?
We’re grateful for the time you gave us
You really, truly tried
You squeezed my hand, you knew my voice,
Our little soldier, you filled us with pride
You looked at me with your daddy’s eyes
And stole my heart away
I picture your face, looking back at me
Each and every day
To me you’ll stay forever perfect
At peace forever more
My heart will yearn for you my son
Until I’m with you once more
Robert we’ll love you forever
In our hearts you will live on
For you are part of our story now
And you’ve made it a magical one.
21st October 2011.