The Palace Park

The Palace Park

Thursday, 28 June 2012

Dear Fang

Summer is finally making its presence known. Late June and it has only just begun to feel that way.

Your sister Squidlet has grown into a proper whirlwind of red hair, infectious laugh, and a gamine grin. She says very important things often, including 'Duck,' 'Josie,' 'Daddy,' 'Nope.' And I am amazed on a daily basis that the way time moves us all forward. And I try only to look back with love. It isn't always easy. You are 2 and a half years old and there is so much of you still around me that your presence is almost physical. The wind moves through your perch in the olive trees, your box winks occasionally from the mantle. Your medical records sit in the filing cabinet (there is no 7-year rule for love nor for grief).

Someone asked me recently if it isn't just a wee bit morbid to speak of you, to remember and mention you in passing. And I resisted -- admirably, I must say -- the urge to take them into an alley and give them a very, very slow and debilitating working over. I smiled -- ever gracious, your mama (it must come with age) -- and just said 'Not at all. But if it offends you, my speaking about my son, I'll not mention him in your presence.' But I'm lying because I will mention you whenever and wherever I feel you should be.

So there.

Love,
Mama