In hospital there are no butterflies
and so the girl and I made some.
Cellophane and pipe cleaners,
feathers and ribbons.
They drift, mid air,
with the lazy current of the opening and closing of our door.
They are all the colours of the rainbow and remind me of childhood
They are everything that should be.
It’s strange being here, on William’s birthday.
My past and my present,
my loss and my gain.
It’s strange and symbolic.
The universe has a funny way of reminding you just how amazing it is.
It can ground you
and leave you with a sense of what is really important.
I miss the thought of him, more than anything, I think
because, really, that’s all I have.
I wonder who he would be,
this boy of eight
and all of the other important things that mothers like to know -
like the colour of his hair and foot size
and if his favourite food would be spaghetti bolognese
like his sister before him and his younger brother.
These are things I sometimes think I will ponder until the end of my time.
Some people might think that strange to celebrate a boy who isn’t here
but he was my son
and I loved him before we was even earth side
and just because he isn’t doesn’t mean these feelings leave me.
We are no allowed to leave the hospital today.
A story for tomorrow
but my little earth angel, my sweet girl gave us a big scare
and her health not stable enough to go
but the paed has said we can take her out onto one of the grassy patches
in the hospital grounds.
Dave and the kids are coming and we will have a small picnic together.
I think our butterfly boy would like that.
Happy birthday sweet boy.
We all miss you.