Nothing to report

Just sticking up a post so that people don’t think I have completely succumbed to alcoholism and despair.

I am going to post a copy of the funeral ceremony soon, but I thought I would wait until I had some photos to post at the same time – but I am in no hurry. I can’t yet look at the memorial cards – and if you wanted to be there and couldn’t be, let me know and I will send you a copy of the order of service and a comment card. So your thoughts for us can be included in our memorial.

So yes, things are bleak. And I don’t have energy, emotional of physical for anything other than getting through each day.

But I’m a BOY!

Yesterday, Inigo chose his outfit (as he is wont to do), and it was a stunner. His tie dyed hippy rainbow shirt (which says “my dad reads to me”), and purple fleece pants with a butterfly on the hip. His hair was looking spectacularly curly, and I had a hair clip (black though!) to keep it out of his eyes.

In Medicare, the woman at the counter complimented my beautiful daughter on her lovely manners (he likes to hand over the medicare card), and I decided to let it slide. I mean, in that outfit, who would guess he was a boy? Often I do correct people, but they get very embarrassed, and I really didn’t have much extra emotional energy yesterday.

But Inigo did. “But I’m a boy”, he piped up with.

Classic. You could have cut the air with a knife. And I look like the strangest mother in the world.

“He likes to choose his own clothes”, I squeaked. It was the best I could do in the circumstances.

A christmas miracle

My counsellor from Sids and Kids has been wonderful with helping me to talk to Inigo about death, and about life, and about what happens in between. Without her I would have been lost, knowing how to deal with this situation, how to guide Inigo through this terrible situation. When I asked if Inigo should attend the funeral, she suggested that while Inigo might not know the difference now, in later years he would want to know if he was at the funeral, and what role he played. That is why we have decided to bring him to the funeral, and to give him the job of handing out the stickers to the other kids for decorating the coffin. And I have asked friends to photograph and video the service so that he will be able to have his questions answered in the fullness of time.

She also suggested that including Archie and Aubrey in our family rituals was a good idea. So this week when Steph took me out, I bought three glass ornaments, small, medium and large, one for each of my boys, and had them personalised with their names. Then when I got home, the funeral director was waiting for me to sign some paperwork, so I dropped my shopping bags on the verge, and signed.

Cue large 4WD, running directly over my shopping bags. The gin was ok, the tonic was ok, but the bag with the ornaments was in the middle. Inigo’s ornament was fine, Aubrey’s ornament was fine, but the box that held Archies was crushed. I opened it to assess the damage, and it was completely undamaged.

I think I am due for some good luck.

Tonight I did something radical

I cooked dinner!

Nothing posh, just pasta with artichokes and lemon, but it was a step up from pasta and red sauce, and it was the first think I have cooked (barring reheating food and 2 minute noodles) in about 4 months.

And today I spent some time explaining what is going to happen tomorrow to the Squish. If you are coming tomorrow, don’t be surprised if you hear him talking about the funeral as a “party”. Since he just had his birthday party, I decided to tell him that it was party to say goodbye to his brothers, and that we would talk about them, and have music, and stickers. I told him that some people would be sad, but that we wouldn’t be sad forever, and that we were very happy that we had him in our lives. And that we love him very much. And he said, “yes, yes you do”.