Still a family

img_6076

‘Appreciate what you have, before time makes you realise what you had.’

I am telling myself this everyday. Because in part, I am already experiencing the later.
Doing so is proving hard. I don’t want to do this without him. But, we are still a family.
We are not the family that we were. We have lost and we are lesser for it, but I have a husband and a Lily for who I love and who are everything and more. I must continue to enjoy, and see happiness and fun and laughter in everything my girl does. And more so, I should try to be part of that happiness and fun and laughter, just as I was when we were whole.

Lily should never feel that she isn’t enough. She must not go to sleep thinking that I will always need more than her. It is not the case.
I have lost a big part of myself; something very precious that cannot be replaced, but she still holds my heart as much as she always did. And what’s more is that she is enough to glue that cracked heart of mine back together. The break will always be there, but it won’t always be seen. When you glance at it from afar it may appear as if it was just as it once was.

I fear for Lily to forget her brother, I do not want for her to move on entirely.
I feel such loss for myself, but largely for her too. She had a sibling. Now she does not. Life is very different. Play time is different. Growing up will be different. So far from how I planned it to be for her, as for I.

I have no guilt in showing her my tears. I am sad, and I am somewhat lost. That is what I am. This is who I am now.
I will talk about him openly to her and anybody else. I will be a reminder of all he was, a sign that he once was here. After all, he has impacted who she is… he is part of what we have become and what we were. He held so much of us in his 4 sweet years. That will never not be.
But I also do not want her to dwell on what has been, or to feel the constant weight about what we have lost.
I mustn’t let it become that we are swallowed whole by what could have been’s; how things should have been different in our lives; How life has been unfair to us.

Do I wish he was still here? So much so. Do I wish that he had never had to endure such a disease. Of course I do.
But he did. Would he have been the same boy had he not? that same boy who I wouldn’t have changed for the world? Likely not. It somewhat made him who he was. The boy that we loved so, very much. The sweetest, most precious, gentle, soft and loving boy that I just about didn’t deserve in the first place.

So we begin again, a different path, albeit not a path we had wanted to walk, but a path none the less. An option, none the less. An option to go on. To try and go on without him. Of allowing us to do so; of enabling Lily to live her life fully; happily, while still holding him in her heart where he belongs. appreciating her for everything she has been, everything she has endured, everything that she is because of this. Every wonderful bit of her. And we will do it. For Corry, for Lily. For us as a family.

Advertisements

4 thoughts on “Still a family

    1. This is the most beautiful thing I have ever read. I have a daughter who has a son with Alexander Disease – my precious grandson. This is our life as well. Your words are so heartfelt ♡

      Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s