We made it. Made it through April, made it through all the dates, made it through a birthday and a death day and a funeral day and a heap of horrible other days. Still upright. Not really whole, but not broken, or not more broken anyway. A month ago it felt like I had to hold my breath and see the world when I got to the other side. here I am, still breathing. When I woke up this morning, life felt odd. Veiled. A bit out of step with life outside the window. I turned off the radio, because today’s child interview was with a boy called Freddy.
Some days, I think I would sell my soul to have just another 60 minutes with him, with my Freddie. Some days, what hurts worse is that I know 60 minutes would not be enough and if I can’t have forever, it is better to hang on to my soul. Everything has a price, it seems.
I took a box of Monkey Comforters to SCBU today, or at least, I took them as far as the foyer and a good friend took them the rest of the way. And I cried when I heard that we are still remembered, with relief really. I don’t know how many babies have occupied that little space and lived or how many have died since. It must be hard to remember them all. I hope the monkeys comfort some mums and dads tonight and they get to go home with a baby to be loved by.
I had to stop, on the way home, because I was crying too much to drive. I pulled up outside a house and sat there for a while, the very picture of some mad woman. When the house owner jogged home, he tapped on my window to check I was all right. It was nice of him, since most men run screaming from weeping woman. Brave, I’d say.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Yes, thank you,” I replied. “I’m fine.”
And I am. Mostly.