The sun may be shining, I may be smiling, but one boy will always be missing.
I may look positive, you might hear me laughing, but one boy will always be missing.
You may see me playing joyfully with little ones, having fun – but one boy will always be missing.
Last week, three mummies met: a mummy with blonde hair, a mummy with red hair, a mummy with brown hair. Two boys met: a boy with blond hair, a boy with red hair. The boy with brown hair was missing.
Hugo will always be missing.
Two little boys, running around. Playing with bubbles. Chasing the ducks. Gabbling away in language that makes perfect sense to them. Marvelling at the world, thinking everyday things most grown-ups take for granted are the most exciting things ever. Rejecting most of the food their mummies had lovingly prepared for them (but devouring instead food from the grown ups’ plates).
Being as good as gold for the mummy who didn’t have her baby with her. That mummy savouring every moment of her time with the two little boys of similar ages to Hugo. Living vicariously as a mummy of a little boy so literally full of life, even for a short time.
Wondering what my little Hugo: the determined, feisty, cheeky little tyke in an incubator weighing no more than a tin of baked beans would be like as a 14 month old.
He would be determined, feisty, cheeky, no doubt. Knowing exactly what he wants, and when. Tantrums when he doesn’t get exactly what he wants. Huge screaming tantrums with kicking, no doubt, making the neighbours wander what on earth I am doing to my son.
But plenty of moments when only comfort from his Mummy will do, only a Mummy’s touch to soothe the scuffed knees and hands, only a Mummy’s cuddle when the world is too much.
The blonde mummy and the red-haired mummy understand the brown haired mummy’s boy is missing. They want Hugo to be there too. Leading the charge. Chief mischief maker.
But Hugo is not.
The little brown-haired boy exists in our hearts and our memories, and in our dreams and imaginations.
I try to enjoy life, have fun, get out there. Make the most of life, do things Hugo will never be able to do. The simple things: sunshine on my skin, a beautiful flower, an ice cream.
But behind that sadness and sorrow will always linger.
Because one boy will always be missing.