Yesterday was very emotional. Actually, every day is very emotional for us at the moment. But yesterday was particularly emotional as my amazing husband completed the 100 mile cycle Ride London event. He braved the elements, and nearly retired because of a punctured tyre, but managed to complete the ride in 5 hrs 9 minutes. Chris was interviewed for the BBC straight after the event and spoke about the reasons why he did the cycle. It was, and always will be, for Eddie. I know Eddie will be so proud of his daddy, as I am, a very proud wife.
It has been an overwhelming few weeks. We’ve kickstarted Teddy’s Wish and the support has, quite simply, been phenomenal. And amongst all of this, we are still missing the most important ingredient of our lives. Our darling boy.
But in Chris’s words “Edward, not only the next 100 miles are for you, but the rest of my life. I will love you forever. Xx”
Chris, you are my inspiration, my strength. You are my hero x
I gave birth to you
In my arms, I held you
I fed you
I nurtured you
I cherished you
I loved you
I was meant to protect you
But life had other plans for you
I miss you
I pine for you
I cry so many tears for you
My heart is broken because of you
I am half alive without you
We have been taught about the fragility of life and how life can change instantaneously. Without warning. And I suppose we feel mis-trusting of life.
Chris went to Amsterdam yesterday for work. It was our first night apart since we lost Eddie and it was tough, even though it was for only 24 hrs. I had the support of a good friend and family who stayed with me but I missed Chris in a different way to how I used to miss him.
Back then, it was taken for granted that he would be home safely. But yesterday was different and we both felt it. We said goodbye like it was the final goodbye.
I pondered over the title of this post before I hit the publish button. I am aware that there are actions we are taking that implies we are making progress, but progress does not seem fitting at a time like this. Moving forward feels more appropriate as it is something that we are doing, not through choice, but out of necessity. Time moves us forward unknowingly, unwillingly.
We are in the midst of setting up Teddy’s Wish, a charity that we hope will honour the memory of our darling boy. This is, in a sense, making progress. We have the final logo approved thanks to a very special and wonderful friend who has helped to make this happen. We are also in the process of getting the website designed and built whilst working through the endless paperwork at HRMC to get the charity registered. And importantly, we have a couple of fund raising projects that will happen in the next few months. First up, Chris is taking part in the ‘Ride London’ event in August which he is diligently training for.
Chris promised Eddie that we would live our lives for him, that we would make him proud of his mummy and daddy. This is our first step to achieving this. We love you Eddie and we always will x
I am reading so many books at the moment on grief, I could open a grief library. Literally. My book shelves are full of them. Amongst the plethora of pages and quotes, some quotes stick and resonate more than others. The quote below by Elizabeth Jennings is spot on. I know the pain of losing Eddie will never go away. Time may pass but like a half-stitched scar, I will never truly heal.
Time does not heal
It makes a half-stitched scar
That can be broken and you feel
Grief as total as in its first hour
I have always thought there is something quite special about receiving hand written letters. Along with Eddie’s memories, we will always be grateful for the words of support given to us from family and friends. In a digital world of emails and texts, letters have permanence. And we will always cherish them.
A friend of ours wrote a letter which I have re-read time and time again. So I wanted to share a quote which has provided a source of comfort in our darkest hour.
“I’ve always thought of grief as love not knowing where to put itself, and that the process of it is locating their memories, those connections, those depths of your soul in which that love can sit most comfortably. As you must be feeling, Edward’s light has not been turned out, nor will it ever be. It glows within you and all those who loved him. Of course it now glows with some pain but in time, and with your will, it will be a glow of strength, of unity, of courage, even of joy”