I wish this day had never come. All I want to do is scream and cry but the only thing I have the energy to do is just sit here. On the floor. Staring blankly at the computer screen and hoping for a miracle. Hoping, praying, bargaining with some higher entity for them to give him back. Please, let me have my Rowan back.
I’ve only watched the Lord of the Rings films once, with Rowan when he was a kid, but there was a line that stuck with me. It struck a chord that resonated with the parent in me and I find myself remembering those words today. No parent should have to bury their child.
I neglected dealing with. I couldn’t. I asked friends and family members to deal with the logistics, from everything from organ donation to finding a funeral director. Perth has a lot of funeral homes, or so they tell me, but if I’m honest everything’s been such a blur I don’t even know which one I’m with. I don’t know who is burying my child. Not that it matters.
I’m hoping that in writing this, I get some sense of closure, but I doubt that will ever happen. It still feels as though he’s going to walk in the front door with that grin on his face, with some tall story about where he’s been. It still feels as though this is all one terrible nightmare I’m going to wake up from and everything will be back to how it was. But I know, deep down, that that’s never going to happen. I can feel it in my gut.
The funeral’s in Perth, so I won’t have to go far. I have a friend coming to pick me up in an hours time. I have to keep moving. I have to just breathe, to go through the motions. Rowan wouldn’t want me to be left a shell. He would want me to live.
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