Driving in my car listening to a song I’m sure many of you are familiar with – Pearl Jam’s Last Kiss – hot tears just swelled and I was overcome with such sadness. The lyrics just made me think, if only…
The words , so I can see my baby when I leave this world, made me wish I could believe that Aidan and Laila are waiting for me. As the tears ran, my heart cried out if only!
Is life that simple that we will all be together again? That’s a question that gnaws at me. Its the dream of hope, of desperation, of belief that I desperately wish was true. My heart longs for it but my mind is at loggerheads knowing that life is not that simple and the science doesn’t match up.
How I envy those who have it all mapped out, with the unwavering belief of what ism and what is ahead.
Today I just miss my boy as I celebrate his 40th.
I still question why me, why us, why again, and what’s the meaning of life.
I wistfully watch the ‘kids’ around me turning 40, celebrating life and the promise of tomorrow genuinely happy for them. The path they are traveling on is precious and precarious yet joyous, and one that deserves to be lived fully. I celebrate their happiness whilst dealing with my bittersweet mix of emotions.
Tonight I paged through a photo album of Aidan, a quick snapshot from birth to death. It carries the essence of A, his curiousness, humour, zest for life, playfulness and laughter, the beautiful caring bay he was. I was so eager to have him join my life, so delighted to share it with him and then completely decimated when he had to leave.
I cannot shake the grief, it remains as a shadow that I witness at various times depending on the sun or moon, what is happening around me, or in quiet times or even when asleep. When my grief surfaces so do all the emotions attached to it. The tears, pain in the gut, a twist in the heart, the burn behind the eyes, limbs that grow tired and the sob from my inner self, but at the same time I welcome the grief as it is my constant reminder that my children walk with me through my life.
I carry them with me – they are the children I have not had. Never to be forgotten
I love the song, I sing it in my car, and then one day quite unexpectedly it reduces me to tears and makes me question my faith, beliefs.
Oh Adian, I wish you were never taken from me. You were the sunshine in my days. Your calls, your hugs, your chats and laughs, your sense of humour and bravery just lit up my life and made me proud. I never imagined that one day you’d be gone and I would have to wrap my arms around you and say goodbye. Just so unfair.
Now I find you in the glorious sunrises, beautiful sunsets, in rainbows and twinkling stars, kookaburras, in songs, when I bake, light a BBQ and when I sit next to the fire, How I long to hug you and tell you how much I love you.
Today when Ren and I were pushing the trolley and it almost tipped over we laughed so hard and said how much you would have enjoyed that moment. You witnessed a similar event when we tipped a trolley over in Kenmore and Ren and I roared with laughter.
Today we – your friends and family, will celebrate you on your 40th birthday. We will sit on the hill with you and raise a glass, share stories and remember the awesome, kind, honest, incredible boy, son and friend you are to each of us.
I’ll hold onto the dream that I will find you at the end of the bridge I asked you to build the day you left, filled with all you cherished, the memories and everything you held dear so that I can find my way, and find you on the other side.
The years creep past and grow in number so we age watching the years fly by. But we will always make time to come together, to sit on the hill and in my garden, to just pause and reflect on the light you shone, and hold onto the memories of you.
Fly high, fly safe and be my shadow.
Your mother always. XOX
Alison
