Sunday, 9 February 2014

Dear Alex, Our Boy.

Monty, 5-years-old, in France.

Dear Alex,

In the name of being a 'good' mum, I swallow a lot of emotion.

I have to put you, Alex, and the kids before me. I am not special in this, ever parent does, or should. But sometimes I cry out internally for it to be about me for a while. Just to feel a bit sorry for myself, just for a while. To wallow in self pity, in loss and grief and sadness, and let it swallow me up.

But I can't.

I watch our kids, their writing stories together. Their playing schools. Their playing lego, building other worlds under their bed and role playing for hours. I listen to them read, discovering how letters are sounds, that form words, that make sentences into a story. I watch them draw, create, imagine and make. I witness angels smiling at me each time one of them smiles. When they climb up me, and spin over, when they always want to sit next to me, and the squabbles ensue!

I am so heavenly blessed with these kids of ours.

Spending time with them fulfils and renews my soul. A soothing balm for an aching heart, their laughter. Their little ways, the way the develop and grow.

Only today, was a hard one for me.

When Monty was so emotional at seeing you, kissed you on the cheek, a long lingering kiss, and cuddled you, allowing himself to be fully cuddled by you for one of the first times. Then he cries, cuddling harder into you as you say 'I love MOnty, I love Monty, I love Monty'

His boy sobs into your man chest, and he says 'I love you too dad, you're the best dad int he world.'

My eyes well and spill, but I know if Monty thinks this is upsetting me, he will make a joke and run off to do something else.

My throat hurt so, restraining the tears, after cuddling you and our boy, all three of us. I kiss your heads, tell you both how much I love you, and few tears spill as I try to remain strong.

But I have to.

Thank you God for that moment.

I am free to cry tears alone now our boy is in bed.

Me xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

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