18 Years
I don’t think I have ever felt more alone than I do right now. I shouldn’t as I have plenty
people around me and most importantly, I have Sebastian and Lucas close to me every day. I
do, however, think there is a bond you share with your child (with each of your children)
from the moment they enter your life, a space if you will that is just yours and theirs and no
one else can enter this. So, when pain is caused in that space only the two of you can feel it
and bear it.
Oscar came into my life 18 years ago, stubborn from the first moment. So much so that he
would not rest properly with anyone but me. Try as they might, and grandparents did, they
had to hand him back to me for only with me would he find comfort. I already had Sebastian
at this point, a calm, loving and kind little boy, and in comes this whirlwind of screaming
stubbornness, anger and fun, sent to test my every patience and with those actions ensuring
our strong bond and love forever. Oh, how I love the strength and the way Oscar challenged
me and how I miss him being able to do it with purpose now.
Oscar would be 18 years old today, and soon he will have been dead for longer than he
lived. Today he should have been celebrating, eating cake with his younger brothers and us,
perhaps go out for a beer with his older brother – the first legal one, celebrating with his
friends a life ahead of him full of adventures and dreams. Today should be a joyous day.
But I don’t know today whether to celebrate his life, or to be honest with myself and give in
to the total devastation I feel right now when I think of him. I am not a walking poster for
positivity even when I try and give that impression and I know that telling people how I
really feel today will make most uncomfortable at best. And that’s the problem with being
alone today. I don’t have Ian here so we could hold each other and share the pain it became
to be Oscar’s parent and then face the rest of the world together to show that this is all
going to be ok.
Make people feel that it isn’t really so bad, let’s face it, that’s what everyone would like to
hear. That this is at least bearable, you know just in case it should happen to them. It isn’t
bearable – it takes all my energy on most days to just get up in the morning and today, had
it not been for Sebastian and Lucas, I would have stayed in bed. I would have stayed and
kept living through every memory I have of Oscar as I did all night, inflicting a suffering on
myself I would never dream of inflicting on any other human being, but necessary to not
betray that bond, that space that is me and Oscar. He is part of me, and I am part of him.
And I wonder, as crazy as it sounds if he is also feeling this pain. Yes, I know he is dead and
no this isn’t an invite to hear about theories of life or heaven after death. I just wonder if
our pain, mine, and Oscars, transcend beyond this world. Does it have a purpose?
On a day like today I dream of time travel or rewinding time or whatever I can possibly do to
get back to him, to have one more hug, one more beautiful smile, one more loud laugh, one
more silly joke, one more angry outburst or just one more walk holding hands. And I shut
the rest of the world out, although that seems impossible.
This week there was an earthquake in Turkey and Syria – countless people including children
have died. So many parents have lost their children. So much pain to be suffered. So I guess
on a day when I should be celebrating my boys’ life I am actually hating life a little. Hating
the cruelty that disaster brings to what would otherwise be a perfect love.
Tomorrow I will celebrate once again that he was here, that I am so so lucky to be his mum.
But today I cry.
Marie