I was chatting to my therapist about life, death, time and grief. Fortunately she does not refer to the usual published stages as she knows that I am not a ‘one size fits all person’.
I never believed that Aidan would leave me.
I’ve grown up experiencing death and dying. As the years passed, I always half believed that I’d be lucky to reach 50. Having not had the experience of watching my parents grow old I did not expect my kids to watch me wither either!
Even when Laila died it never entered my head that it would happen again, to me.
I just lived life as we all do. It’s interesting how we don’t contemplate life throwing us hurdles to deal with and death.
When I look back over my life, and even now, life just happens. The sun rises and it sets. We are focused on our lives, many make long term plans or set long term goals. We just believe they will happen.
So did I.
How lucky was I to have a boy and a girl. They loved each other and life was good.
And then it changed in a split second. We travelled that road, coped with diagnosis, treatment, sickness, intensive care, operations, more intensive care and making the decision to turn off the ventilator.
Life went on and so did Aidan and I. We grieved together, grew closer, and journeyed a new road together. Then he jolted my journey and we immigrated.
And so a new life and a new journey began with its own ups and downs. But all through this I never once thought that Aidan would not be with me forever… or until it was time for me to go. It never crossed my mind that anything more would happen to me.
Boy was I wrong.
I do thank the universe that we have no idea what lies before us in anything we do. It would take all our joy and excitement away.
After Laila died I changed the way I thought. I lived every moment of every day. Not really fussing too much about tomorrow or the next moment. I just hurtle along and deal with life as it hits me.
Life had got into a rhythm for A and I.
I enjoyed watching him grow into a young man and find his passion in work and in life. We enjoyed each other and I just loved him and was so proud of who he was.
Life was lulling me and I was starting to enjoy that.
But that was not to be and bam, in another split second my world was torn apart. Aidan’s guilt at putting me through this a second time was harder to bear than his diagnosis. I believe our love for each other overcame that.
And so I was plunged into another round of similar, but not the same.
I did not want to think about the possibility that my boy would leave me. I just got on with the day to day routines of life which consumed my days. These were not your average days but seeing my boy every day just made me so happy.
Even when we sat in hospital for hours waiting for tests or chemo or radiation or for bloods, we found something to laugh about, we smiled, we talked, we just lived that moment. We were like the three stooges at times. Aidan could always make us laugh.
And then it was time for Aidan to fly and to leave Aleisha and me behind.
My only regret is that I never had enough time with him.
I miss Aidan every day. I miss him every minute of every day. If I stop and close my eyes I can hear him and feel him. And I talk to him often. And to his sister.
If I could give young people a message it would be to make the most of every day, and do it with understanding, as not everyone around you is sturdy on their feet.
I have been saddened and hurt so much by the ‘youth’ in some. My hope is that as they experience life and mature, they might come to understand and accept, and respect, what us as parents do for them. Youth has a way of throwing stones and causing undue pain. Much of it unwarranted.
I know we travel life with blinkers on, and we are never prepared for the unexpected, and we are not taught how to deal with it, or how to wear our grief, or how to come out the other side scarred and beaten but standing tall.
It takes strength and the ability to see beautiful things in every day. I have taught myself to look up. To admire and see glory in every morning so that I can get out of bed. To find time to laugh, to keep busy so grief does not take over, to enjoy my friends and life as best as I possibly can, and to give it my all.
I will cry and I will remember and I will be sad. But I am grateful that as the years are passing that I am remembering Aidan more and more as he was in his life. Over the past few years the memories have been stuck. Now I’m not only at the end, or only in the last few years but now I’m seeing him as a child, playing rugby in the mud, playing his saxophone, doing his homework in front of the fire or playing with his sister.
They are bittersweet memories but ones I am happy to have.
Happy birthday my darling boy.
I’ll love you forever, I’ll cry tears for you forever, I’ll miss you and my heart will hurt forever, but I am so grateful that I had you, that I held you and that you knew how much I loved you.
We will celebrate your life for you, we will blow out your candles, we will drink a toast to the beautiful, wonderful boy you were and we will share our love and memories.
Your mother forever.
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