13th December 2012
Beauty, breathtaking and breath-giving, inhale icy air, breathe out mist and revel in leaves outlined white, silvery dust floating in bitter air, spider webs promiscuously draped everywhere, takeover in their white silver elegance…
It took so long to get to school this morning, drinking in all the beauty of the frost, heavy, beautiful and leaving everything in white dress.
It was home visit day yesterday for you Alex, although today you do not remember you were home yesterday. We had the most incredible day. Picked the kids up from school, and something changed.
I realised, Monty can’t cope with you. After school, he hid till I sought him in the playground, then chastised me for bringing you, it was 'embarrassing' and I was a crap mum for having done it. He stormed off, stomping the route home. I am back to earth with a thud on icy ground. When we get home, the noise, five people needing me to do things, you’re drenched. I have to change you, there’s a knock at the door, one of the kids disregards my instruction not to open the door, the noise escalates, they grizzle, they demand, Monty scowls at me, tells you not to talk to him, 'just shut up dad’ whenever you call his name. It’s a yo-yo kind of grieving for him. The dad he had, knew and adored is not there. But you are still here, his child-like hope that you’ll pop back to how you were before, he keeps secretly deep down hoping, but every time he sees you he has to confront it’s not happened yet, you’re not the dad he wants…I’m not blaming him for how he’s feeling, or the fact he’s angry at me about it. I just don’t know what to do. Other than love him, wrap him up in mummy unconditional love and let him go through it, reassuring him.
I flip. I buckle, I shout, I bend, I cry.
This is no easy path. You have to come home, you will never progress if you’re not a home. I also have to protect and look after four kids, who, young and ‘fatherless’ (in that sense) need me all the more.
Today I ache, you’re so heavy to push, and my back is in agony from lifting, turning, pushing.
But, do you know what, it’s not about me. It’s about you and the kids. That’s all.
I have to cope. No excuses, no nothing, just have to!