Memory day

 

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Their is not a day that goes by, in which I don’t think of you. Rare is the hour, in which you have not held my mind.
Today I remembered you, from the place in which we lost you. The place that we stayed with you whilst you found your peace.

I remembered the day you were born to us. Hearing ‘Its a boy!’ And feeling like I had no idea what I’d do with one of those.

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I remember taking you home and not wanting to let you go, because from the minute I held you in my arms I had never experienced a love like it. In hindsight, I feel that maybe I instinctively knew that one day I may have to.

I remembered how we could communicate very early on using little word. You would use your pointy finger to your advantage and get exactly what you desired. Every Wednesday without fail, patiently waiting for the other kids to finish their dinner before pointing that finger over to a select cupboard, where you knew the chocolate buttons would be waiting for you. You’d be carried over by grandad, open that door and hand the goodies out willingly. Your chore for the week, knowing the treat at the end.

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I remembered you ‘helping’ dad with his projects- passing the tools to him, sticking screwdrivers wherever the hell they’d go. You had hands and fingers that were made to tinker…. and tinker you did!

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I remembered how you would wake early each morning, drop yourself off the edge of our bed and proceed over to my make up box, where you would spend a good bit of time decorating yourself, the carpet, the wall and all else, knowing that I was too tired to worry about lipstick stains at that unruly hour! I never did move that make up box. It became a ritual I’d become accustomed to waking up to; Seeing the mischief you had created! Just as all childhood, suddenly gone with no idea when or why exactly it stopped.

I remembered all of your soft toys. You adored those toys. Your big bear, over double your size. Your fluffy cow that you would cackle at as I charged it at you. The noisy ‘yo jo jo’ with its heavy weighted head and your seagull Charles, that stayed up with you and nurse playing silly buggers all night, instead of sleeping. You had a hundred and more, but they would all have a place on your bed. They could get away with it, because you’d never sleep in your own. I liked it that way.

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I remember carrying you every single day. Right through until your last months. You’d be on my hip. Everywhere. You’d reel off statement words of everything we passed; people and things. I’d plonk you down into your car seat after whizzing about and I’d puff so hard. My arms feel empty here now, heavily weighted but empty.

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I can never stop relaying your life in my mind. Replaying your voice. Remembering every little thing about you.
Sometimes it hits me so hard. The sudden shock that you are not here. An urge to wake up from this. I am stuck in between time. Time moving too far away from when I last kissed you, spoke to you. A time frame unknown ahead. A knowing that I must be, and a wanting not to.

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I love you Corry. I miss you so.
So so very much.