Hey Harry. Just wanted you to know that I’m with you. That I was with you. Hopefully I’m still with you.
I have no idea when you’ll be reading this; if you’ll be reading this. I guess it could easily be in a matter of weeks. Or it might be in a year or two. I’m figuring you will at some stage. At what age do kids start googling their own name? Let me know.
I was just wondering whether you remembered tonight. Tonight as I sit here and write, and you’re asleep in bed. There’s nothing particularly special about tonight. Though I hope you were impressed with how speedily I was able to get the pie cooked and on the table – with the salad you didn’t eat.
I wondered if you remembered talking at dinner about mum. About how sometimes you get a bit sad when the teachers say things like “take this home to your mum”. Does that still happen? Does it still hurt? I wondered if you remember telling Cara and I how sometimes when the topic of mum comes up, or sometimes even just death, some of your friends move away and don’t want to talk about it; don’t want to talk to you. Do you remember you told us how Jenson is really supportive? It’s good to have friends who understand and are there for you. They’re the best type. I hope you’ve got plenty.
Do you remember I had my own story from today. How there was a man giving a presentation and he kept telling bad jokes (to the completely un-diverse white male 40-50 year old audience) about how he needed to seek permission from his wife to make decisions? Apparently everyone has a dainty nagging wife at home. He made an adjusting comment to the only female in the room. It made me feel annoyed, pissed off (I don’t think I used that phrase) and a little sad. Do you remember that I tried to explain how I was with you. How we’re going through this together. How I think I understand.
Do you remember how earlier this week, probably the first time ever, you talked to me about how in the first little while after mum died you didn’t want to talk about it and how you didn’t want people to talk about it either, but that now you feel ok about talking about it? I told you how I don’t ever think I’ll completely understand what it’s like to lose a mum, but that I know what it’s like to lose your mum.
Do you remember we wondered together whether maybe Cara still feels that way and we’d try to be there for her together when she’s ready?
Do you remember how you showed me some of your writing you’d been doing at school? A story about a boy who died of cancer, with a mum called Mary. I read it and you saw the tears in my eyes.
Do you remember how much I wanted to understand and walk with you? Do you remember how much I loved you?
Hopefully I’m still here with you, and if I am, rest assured I still do.