David John Edwards
(29th Nov. 1986 – 20th
Feb 1987)
David was.
David is.
But, Dear Lord,
Whatever happened to
What David might have been?
David was born to Jo and I in ‘Oxford Street’,
Liverpool Maternity Hospital on this day in 1986. Such
knowing eyes. Three months later he died – a cot death. The terrible raw grieving is now over. The memory lingers on. Memories of good times and fun days and a day
when he was about two and a half months and ‘Everything was perfect’. His death
taught me so much and changed me as a person – for the better, I hope. Certainly it made me more understanding. And
it has made me ever fearful for my three other children. But the longing for
him to have lived overlies everything.
There are various ‘models’ about
grieving. None of them can be exactly
applied to every individual because we are all different just as our children
were different. But most models end with
an ‘Acceptance’ stage where the parent learns to accept and deal with the
reality of their situation. Acceptance does not mean instant
happiness. Given the pain and turmoil the parent has experienced, she or he can
never return to the carefree, untroubled person that existed before this tragedy. They are irrevocably changed but they can go on to live their lives as 'normal' people. Shortly after David died I worried that I might
forget him in the sense of not bringing him to mind every day. There probably has been the odd day when I haven’t
thought of him. But is has been only the
odd day in 28 years.
Parents should not outlive their children and
today is a day for remembering that.
And, because of that, I am also thinking about GB and Carol (parents of my
nephew and godson, Andrew); Sue and Dave (Tom’s parents); Katie and Adam (Archie’s
parents); and many other parents that I met through the Alder Centre at Alder
Hey Hospital. Sadly, the list is endless.
P.S. I'm not seeking sympathy in the comments - I simply had to record the day somehow.
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Never forgotten. Thank you for writing this...
ReplyDeleteThank you for recording the day. Every year, on the anniversary of our daughter's stillbirth after the surgery meant to save her, i mark it somehow also. It never leaves you, this weight of empty air you grab when you reach for them, and weight that feels like it will break your arms.
ReplyDeleteYou and Jo are in my prayers by name each day.
I'd like to respond to this by e-mail. Perhaps you might send me your e-mail address to scriptorsenex@gmail.com ?
DeleteRemembering David with you today.
ReplyDeleteI'm glad you have happy memories of when "everything was perfect". Young David looks like a happy fellow and probably had a lot to say. I'm so sorry that he wasn't given enough time to say it all.
ReplyDeleteWe never forget the ones who have gone before. Hardly a day goes by when I don't think of my mother, dad, or my aunt Sadie, or my lifelong friend Charles who died an untimely death at 48. But though it can be painful, it's probably good that we are able to remember and share the important things about them and their lives. Take care of yourselves and God bless, xoxox Carol
ReplyDeleteHis spirit lives on. Life does not end, only the empty shell is left behind.
ReplyDeleteI only want to acknowledge and agree that a parent should not outlive our children. I so far I am lucky but at the same time I fear a phone call someday to be told about my son ( also David) who has chosen a life of drugs and crime.. I fear he will be found in some gutter one day.. But I always hope that he will get help and change his ways...
ReplyDeleteLiving with that fear must be dreadful (such an inadequate word really). I join you in sending hope that he will choose to change his ways and have the strength and courage to do so.
DeleteWhat a sweet little face. Thank you for sharing his memory and life here. Big hugs to you and your family on this special day of remembrance.
ReplyDeleteSpecial day of remembrance on the anniversary of his birth. And as Yaya has said above, a very sweet face indeed.
ReplyDeleteMy Dad lost his son and I know what you mean about being fearful for your other children. He had five more after the loss of his son and once I learned of him losing his son, it made sense to me of how much he looked after us. xx
Oh, I meant to say, that his son was also named David.
ReplyDeleteI don't know how parents bear it when something happens to their children.My younger brother died shortly after his birth and two of my playmates when we were toddlers. I was so little, but it marked me. Thinking of you and Jo on this special day of remembrance! Love, Silke
ReplyDeleteDavid "is" still with you and he will always be remembered.
ReplyDeleteThose are the words on my brother's tombstone..."Always Remembered" and they speak volumes.