Friday, October 27, 2006

TOGETHER

Wonderful time together exploring our village in the Spring sunshine, Tom as always terribly excited about the now familiar sounds of ‘choo – choo’, ‘ayo – pane’ and ‘heyi – coppa’. He smiles softly at me, pointing out each one in turn apparently delighted in this new ability to recognise these marvels and communicate about them with others. He enthuses to all that pass us by about flowers, bicycles, cars, trucks, diggers, towers, boats and with pride, should they not have already realised, tells them all quite pointedly that I am his ‘daddy!’ We run around in the boat shelter together, laughing, chasing, cuddling and collapsing into a giggling heap of togetherness; being together, a father and his son doing all the normal things that so many might take for granted but are now, sadly, not so normal for either of us. Tom charges at each boat in turn eager to touch each and every one of them, to feel them and know exactly what they are. We stroll out along the harbour wall that stretches out freely some 100 meters into the tidal flow of the estuary. It is quite blustery and I take Tom into my arms. As we stand together at the far end, the sea crashing hard around us, he presses his slightly cold cheek hard against mine and we both look out across the water, our thoughts meeting somewhere out there, in love with this place and filled with love for one another. A swan passes by , blown along by the breeze, her cygnets all feathers and fur bobbing helplessly behind, there is it seems no ‘daddy’ swan to help them.

Tom appears to be a little tired when we get home so I put his tea in the Aga and we make a quick visit up the road to see Jeff and Lyn. They are in and as ever welcoming and pleased to see us. Tom is immediately transfixed by the ‘mouse’ (actually hamster) that they are looking after for there Grandchildren and this keeps him amused for the ten minutes or so that it takes me to down a cup of tea and catch up quickly with my friends lives. Time is pressing on now so we give all the kisses and make our goodbyes.

Back home and the wonderful smell of food hits us as I open the back door, Tom demanding immediately to be put in his chair as the sausages come sizzling out of the oven. My little man is hungry! Bib on, socks off and toes kissed to squeals of delight (a little meal time ritual) he is soon stuffing an already impossibly packed mouth with pork and apple sausages, new potatoes, beans, carrots and cherry tomatoes followed by a big bowl of seedless grapes each cut meticulously in half to avoid any risk of choking. Tom likes his food. Elaine insisting from the start that he has only the very best; no added sugar, salt or preservatives, just good simple food with the occasional surprise to keep it all interesting. It is surprise time now. I make a slow and very deliberate move towards the fridge, his wide eyes beaming at me in full appreciation of this most pantomimic of rituals. Slowly, very slowly I open the door and take a peak inside, Tom kicking and giggling wildly, the excitement now almost too much for him to bare;
‘pudding daddy, pudding please’
I pull out a small tub of fromage frais in those impossibly ‘French’ pots that for an adult constitute one or two spoons full but Tom adores them. He lets out another squeal of delight and follows each little mouth full with an oh so grateful ‘mmmmm’.

Too soon, always too soon, Elaine arrives to take Tom home. Home? I am gripped tightly, bound and gagged by the terrible pain of his leaving. It’s still so very raw and as we say goodbye his sobbing, his cries of ‘daddy daddy’ stun me into the realisation, the impossible truth that we are hurting the most precious thing in our lives. I sob as always uncontrollably when he is gone. I have it seems known nothing of pain before this time.

I love you Tom.

Tuesday, October 24, 2006

SENTENCE

Sometimes in life you get what you deserve, sometimes fate deals harshly and you’re left wondering if there is any justice in the world.

Written on my kitchen blackboard just a few weeks after my son was taken from me;
‘DON’T LET THE FEAR OF LOSING DISPLACE THE JOY OF HAVING’
and until now I have clung to that thought. But in recent weeks following the arrival of letters from Elaine’s’ solicitors, an increasing level of fear and anxiety has crept into my life, even my dreams, rendering sleep useless and ineffective. Too terrified even to answer the telephone, my stomach sickened by each flash of the answering machine, each tone of the mobile that threatens to deliver the message that I dread beyond all other. The one that tells me that I cannot see Tom; the one that says we cannot visit Grandma; the one that tells me that he is too unwell for today’s visit, cancelled until further notice; the one that says ‘we are moving away….a long way away.’
This isn’t life. No way to live. In constant fear that so little, so precious to me, might be snatched away at any moment. I sit. Cry. Try to understand. Why? But am unable to answer this most basic of questions and in resignation look deep into the eyes of the advancing hoards of desperation that tumble over themselves in their attempt to overwhelm me.

Rang Elaine tonight to say goodnight to Tom as I have done so many times before. I can hear his voice in the background, knowing and excited,
‘Is that daddy?’ but am told now that
‘I would rather you didn’t ring for that from now on…okay?’
‘Okay’
and ashamed at this surrender I feel all hope drain away, the battle lost and the fight beaten out of me.

I don’t know what I’m being punished for only that I have been punished enough now. I love you Tom