Where are you, Ned?

Today would have been your 7th birthday. But you’re not here. The house is quiet. There is no laughter or singing, or doing the conga. There was no bouncing on our bed at 7am with shouts of ‘Happy birthday to meeee!’

Where are you, Ned?

It’s been snowing here, snow like you never got to see. Enough to build a snowman in the garden – one of the things you always wanted to do. School is closed; no school on your birthday. You would have been happy with that, I think. What would you have asked for this year? I don’t know. You would have wanted a party, and a friend for a sleepover in your new bunkbed that you never got to sleep in.

Where are you, Ned?

On your 5th birthday, you told me about all of the things that you were going to do now that you were 5 years old. You would have lost some teeth and the tooth fairy would have been. You would have learnt to ride your bike without your stabilisers. You wanted to have ‘chicken spots’ and I think you probably would have because Cai caught them last year. How simple was your list, but how precious. Important milestones in the life of a 5 year old. But you never got to do any of them.

Where are you, Ned?

This question haunts me every day and at night when I cry myself to sleep.

People say that you’re in my heart – yes, you’ve been in my heart since the second you were born, but that’s my love for you, it isn’t you.

Some say that you’re right beside me, but I don’t feel you. I don’t feel your small hand in mine, or your arms wrapped around my neck at bedtime. I carry your memory with me, but it’s not you.

You’re buried in the ground. I watched in anguished pain as they lowered you encased in a white box. But that was your beautiful outside shell. You had already left. I sit beside your graveside, but you’re not there.

I visit the roadside to place flowers; I sit in the spot where I’ve been told you took your last breath. But you’re not there.

Some say that you’re in Heaven, but I don’t know what I believe because taking you away from us so cruelly makes no sense.

Where are you, Ned?

Are you waiting for me? Are you reaching out and I just can’t see you? Are you shouting, ‘I’m here’ and I just can’t hear you?

Where are you, Ned?

If I knew then I would be right there with you. I’d wrap you tightly in my arms and never let go of you again. I’d tell you I’m sorry and whisper I love you for eternity.

 

 

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2 thoughts on “Where are you, Ned?

  1. I’m so sad to read this horrific loss of your beautiful Ned. You captured grief so well! I’ve never lost a child but your pain is so palpable yet it touches the deepest part in my heart.
    God bless you Sharon and your family. Nancy

    Like

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