I got this picture from a Facebook Group and it summarised how I’ve been feeling. Or how we’ve been feeling. The loss is there. Sometimes so sharp and acute and sometimes, a little numbed. I know people don’t generally want to talk about it, or ask us about it. They mostly manage a how are you doing and then switch over to another topic. I don’t mind but sometimes I want them to ask more. Because I want to relive those memories again. I want to remember my son. I want to talk about my son.
I don’t wish for anyone to go through what we have. And maybe better that they don’t understand the pain, don’t understand what we went through.
I don’t know what’s the protocol of going to the grave and visiting. I don’t know if I should go every day or every month or what. The grave is but a marker. My son’s body is there but he isn’t. And it makes me feel lost at times, confused. I keep seeing his face and I look at videos and watch his eyes. Was he trying to tell me something all those times? Was I just blinded by my own hope to see it?
People say that you’re still young, you can have more kids. First of all, I’m not young. And as I age, it gets harder and more dangerous. Secondly, it takes almost a year to create one, to grow them in your womb. They don’t come out like instant pancakes! Thirdly, I have the sick worry that something similar will happen again. And can I cope with it this time round? How am I expected to think or feel that each time a perfect creation appears but is only given such a short time with me?
You can tell me I shouldn’t think about this. I should leave it up to Allah. And I do. But don’t lie to me that if you were ever placed in my position (and I hope not) that you would not have these thoughts.