“If you had a brother, no, a brother and a sister, then you added us two, and then you, there would be seven of us in your house”, so says my son’s friend as he and his sister walk up the road with us.
“Who wants to be my brother?, yells our son as they all play rough and tumble on the floor, all landing as a pile one on top of the other. Great guffaws of laughter exploding out of each child.
This morning the postman puts some things through our letterbox – I don’t rush to get them. I stay seated for a while, I don’t know why, I don’t know what I am waiting for. The dog barks at the postie, an excited bark. The postman always fusses him. Not today though, I haven’t gone to the door and as it turns out the Royal Mail have sent a different man for the job. One disappointed dog who has now got a growl rumbling in his throat as if bemoaning this change, lodging a complaint about it and so he rumbles on – more to himself than the world at large.
He is soon happy again as I get up at last and move towards the hall to lift the postal offering from the floor and carry them in to the living-room. He can sniff around now, inspect the delivery, pass judgement with his nose on every item – is anything worth a second sniff? Not today it seems and I pick up the items and flick through them. Catalogues – mine, bills – my husband’s, a card – ours. I know it is a card not a letter, it should be a birthday card I can’t help thinking. But it’s not. It should be for our oldest son, for Jamie. But it’s addressed to my husband and I instead. I don’t open it. I still haven’t.
It will be some sort of ‘Thinking of You’ card and I can tell by the hand-writing used to address the envelope that it is from my mother. She has not mentioned she has sent it or indeed anything about the reason for it at all. She rings every evening. Isn’t it funny how I can speak to her so often yet we don’t really say anything?
It would be, no, it is Jamie’s 10th birthday on the 18th October. He was three months old when he died and it seems to be the way of things still, that when we speak of him to others, it is his death that gets mentioned in the same breath as his birth. Everything off-balance, including us.
I have written reams about losing Jamie, because at the time it really did feel like we had lost him. It felt like he had been suddenly taken from us, ripped from our lives, and the anger, pain, disbelief, despair, and grief were total and all consuming. One day, maybe, I will share those words but today I want to say how very glad I am to feel him with me, with us, every day. How thankful I am, how proud of him we feel and how much we love him.
Happy birthday Sweetheart. We love you forever.
Love Mummy, Daddy, Robin and of course Pupcake
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