2011

Yesterday Rick and I attended the funeral of a close family friend – someone very precious and very dear to my parents and their circle of friends.

Apart from the fact that I’d grown up with her as one of my ‘aunties,’ Susana was particularly special to me because she was the one who’d sat next to me after Cameron died and had said the words, “The pain will lessen in time.”

If anyone else had said such a thing, I would probably have responded in anger. But Aunty Susana – well, she’d lost one of her own sons just four years prior. Which meant she knew. And understood. And so her words meant the world to me. And those words have stayed with me to this day.

Tears were shed yesterday. Many tears.

In many ways I still can’t believe she is gone. Her death was so sudden, so uncompletely unexpected. My heart goes out to her husband and her other son – both of whom have now lost half their family. I cannot imagine their pain, and do not pretend to.

Before we left the Memorial Gardens, we visited Cameron very briefly. We saw immediately that the building of the centre behind Cameron’s spot had progressed substantially since our last visit.

“It might actually be quite nice,” Rick observed.

We also noticed that there was now no rose bush at all next to Cameron’s plaque, and so Rick made a trip to the office to inform them.

They reassured him that they would fix it – in time for Cameron’s anniversary in September.

While at my parent’s place today, I found out that friends from college lost their baby girl today at 3am in the morning. I read their story and looked at their photos on Facebook, and my heart simply broke for them.

It makes me sick in the stomach to think that someone we know is grieving and hurting so intensely right now.

The path ahead is a hard one for our friends.

Though no one can tread this path for them, nonetheless we can stand close, pray, weep with them and send them tiny messages that mean all the world at a time like this.

To dear little Abigail, I am remembering you today and always.

My dear little boy,

A dear friend of mine going through some hard times said to me last week that he felt he was stronger because of you – to know that even though we lost you, we somehow survived, and continue to survive. This gives him both hope and encouragement, he said.

Even though you are no longer here, you continue to make a difference, little boy.

I love you.

Mum xo

This evening while Rick’s parents were watching Pete and Jamie in the lounge, I took Angus into his room to deal with his dirty nappy. I had almost finished changing him when he suddenly said, “Cameron!”

“Cameron?” I asked.

“Cameron in the play room!” he replied.

“Cameron’s photo is in the playroom, yes.” I corrected him, sadly.

“Cameron in the play room!” he repeated.

“No, Cameron’s living with God darling, but his photo is in the playroom,” I said.

“No, Cameron in the play room!” By this time, he sounded almost a little upset with me.

So as not to disagree with him anymore, I suggested that we go into the playroom together and find Cameron’s photo. He was very happy to do this.

We went in and found the small frame that held Cameron’s photos. I handed it to him and suggested that he show it to Nan, and he rushed over immediately to do this.

At that very same moment, Rick arrived home.