I miss his toys and I miss his tubes. I miss the nurses, I miss the other mums, the social workers and the hospital.
I miss waiting for him to get better. When I was waiting for him to get better I had hope. I had hope that he would live, that he would come home and grow up and we would be involved in his care and it would have been hard but he would have been alive. I still feel like I have hope. That's really strange. I don't know why I would have hope now, he died over a year ago. I look at his pictures and I just really want him to be here.
This photo shows toys I made him. I hand stitched these while I was waiting. They are textured for touch stimulation and coloured for visual stimulation.
When I look at the photo I posted previously I can see more of his toys, some of the ones I made are there, some were given to him and some were chosen by my husband and I. When I look at all of Thomas' things I miss them too. I feel like unpacking the boxes and getting them all out, so I can feel closer to him. I know that would just make me sad. I have kept the red satin donut out where I can touch it. He was buried with the pink terry square.
I suppose I am lonely. Rowan has been at his fathers house since Saturday and I have been by myself a lot of the time.
I just want to shout and scream, why couldn't he be here. There is no answer.
There are memories, images and words.
Grief, broken, wounded, hurt, sobbing, inconsolable, empty, angry, defiant, protective, tired, exhausted, mangled, robbed, alone, searching, waiting, remembering, hiding, accepting, acting, performing, stressed, breathing, living, loving, embracing, storytelling, chronicling, hoping.