I know.

Hi baby,

It’s been so long since I’ve been able to hold you.

I don’t really know what to do with myself.

I don’t know how to reconcile myself with the thought that I won’t ever hold you again.

I know that I need to honour all the work you’ve put into me. You did so much for me. I know how ungrateful it seems to throw that all away. I know, baby, I know.

But this world, without you in it… It’s horribly empty.

Don’t get me wrong, I know it’s a beautiful world, filled with so many beautiful people. I know there’s so much more to explore and so much more love to give. I know, baby, I know.

But it’s a lesser place without you in it. Less shiny. Less interesting. Less loving. Less safe. I could go on and on.

You brought so much to my world; to this world.

Maybe no-one else noticed how the skies are a less vibrant shade of blue. Or how the sun’s touch doesn’t feel quite as warm anymore. Maybe their hearts don’t ache when they don’t feel that extra bit of love you filled the air with. It always felt tangible to me.

Maybe no-one else can feel the change 15 October brought to this world. But I can.

And, if it was a sound, it would be deafening.

And I’m so lucky that I have so many incredible people around me that love me and want to help. I know how much support I have available to me. They’re all trying so hard to muffle the sound. They’re holding me close and buying me headphones. I know all this, baby, I know.

I’m overwhelmed with the outpouring of love I’ve felt. I really, truly am.

I know that you and Zoe and Lu have shaped me into the kind of person that can do some good in this world. I know I have the capacity to touch lives in some small way. I’m so grateful that you’ve gifted me this. And I know I need to use it. I know, baby, I know.

But I don’t know how to keep putting one foot in front of the other when you’re not walking beside me. I don’t know how to inhale and exhale over and over again without your body against mine, guiding my breath.

I don’t know how to not want to be with you. I’m struggling to understand what the point of me is without my Chopper.

I know everyone thinks I’ve lost my buddy and my companion. They don’t know. They don’t know how you were my entire world. How you were my best friend, my partner, my family, and, most of all, my kid. They don’t understand that you were my heart. Not a part of it, but its entirety.

And now you’re gone.

And I know I seem ok on the outside. I’m not breaking down. Because my world isn’t collapsing around me. Because my heart isn’t breaking. They’re just gone. My heart, my world… It all just seems to have ceased to exist that moment I felt your last breath leave your body.

So, I know all the things I have to feel and do, baby. Really, I do. But I just want you.

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Not today

I knew it was coming. Of course I did. The cancer was too aggressive.

But you were always so strong. You consistently surprised us all by how quickly you responded to treatment.

You wanted to be alive so badly, for me, I know; that I got too confident. And I started to think that maybe you’d make it to Christmas. Maybe to your 13th birthday.

So while I knew it was coming, I didn’t think it would be today.

Continue reading “Not today”

Every morning

Every morning for the last 12 years, I’ve woken up and the first thing I’ve done is to seek you.

I never had to look far when you were young. You’d be pressed up against me in the nook created by my legs or the pit of my arms. As you got older, you moved to the foot of the bed – always in prime position to protect me should the need arise.

But no matter what, as soon as my eyes opened they wanted to find you.

Continue reading “Every morning”