A picture paints a thousand words....

A picture paints a thousands words....

They say a picture paints a thousand words.  This picture paints a devastation of pain and a reminder of what we will never have and never know.  Trying to put this into words is hard, as it comes with the constant ache and pain that every parent who has lost their child will know exactly what I am saying.

Elliot (EJ) loved his red and yellow car – or rather caravan as he called it.  On the morning he died, he had seen his caravan and wanting to play.  I was in the midst of sorting out his sister’s breakfast sleepover and then off to his brother’s football.  So, I said of course he could, later though.  Later never came.

When EJ died, the kindness of friends helped to remove the things we couldn’t face.  His car seat was one of them and another was his much-loved red and yellow caravan.  The latter has stayed quietly in his godmum’s house for the past 13 years.

It now has a new lease of life for EJ’s gorgeous niece.  She loves it.  I love seeing her playing in it and pushing her around the garden.  When I first saw it though, it broke my heart.  Took me back to that conversation and the promise EJ could play with it later.  Time is no healer when your child dies.  Moments, memories, conversations are only ever a heartbeat away regardless of the passing years.

This is part of grief.  You have to continue with your life journey, adapt, adjust, fall apart, piece yourself back together and somehow keep putting one foot in front of the other.  Part of that life journey are the new opportunities, new memories and changes life brings.  You only get one life, so live it.  Another saying.  Hard, true though.  EJ’s caravan could have stayed in the garage or been donated – the pain of seeing it again and everything it represented – something else to face and sit with in the knowledge that it is another part of the journey, seeing new memories being made, a connection between Uncle Elliot and the niece he would have absolutely adored – it is worth sitting with the pain.

What makes this picture so hard is that EJ would have been 15 years old today (27th May).  The image of this caravan comes with me holding my nearly 3-year-old in my arms making a promise.  Now, 13 years later, I look at this car and try and get my head around what I knew and who I knew and the 15-year-old that I will never know. 

Losing your child brings so much pain of what you have lost and what you will never know – yet your mind keeps trying to work it out.  What would he have been like, how would he sound, what would make him happy in life – questions and questions.  Doesn’t matter that he never made it to 15, in my heart he is still there, still want the growth and yet I have no memories beyond that horrendous day.  I am already dreading what would have been the milestone birthday next year – when he would have turned 16.

Tears flow as I write this. 

This is the hidden part of grief.  What is hard to explain to people who think because you have experienced so many birthdays without him – that one more is ok, you are used to it.  Or as one person said ‘well at least you are missing the teenage angst years’….

Comments like this are part of the reason the work of Elliot’s Footprint is so valuable.  As many parents whose child has died will tell you, it is a very lonely place to be, sometimes you have amazing love and understanding and other times throw away comments because someone doesn’t know what to say or how to respond.  That is another pressure, trying to navigate the thought of all those years lost for my 15-year-old, we also have to fight the financial pressures and uncertainties to keep our work going to ensure that bereavement support is there because there is no one else picking up the pieces. 

If you don’t mind I have two asks.

First one is check in with anyone you know who has experienced a death.  A hello message.  Anniversaries and birthdays especially – also when they come into your thoughts.  Say the name of who they have lost, let them know that years passing don’t diminish their memory.

Second, please donate and help us to keep our family bereavement role going – every single penny donated goes directly to families.  All donations count and you will be making a different.  It only takes a few moments to making a life changing donation

Thank you.

Happy Birthday 15th EJ, loved more than you will ever know.

Mummy