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George I wish you were here. To delight in Cooper’s school report with me. To read and re read it our hearts swelling with pride, dissecting each part at length, each time finding some new element to relish.
I wish you were here for his leavers assembly. Coop and his buddy were chosen to share their memories of the school, you would have been so proud to sit and watch him confidently speak in front of over 100 people about fun school trips and wonderful teachers. Our gorgeous, amazing boy is growing up and taking the leap from the nurturing Infants
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to the brave new world that is The Juniors. Thank you cards have been written, gifts have been chosen. Tears have been shed at every, single, stage.
I wish you were here to meet his new teacher. To hear about a new school, see his new classroom, the playground where he’ll play football with his mates. To order a big boy blazer, shirts and tie. I wish you were here to show him how to tie his tie and take him to school on his first day.
I wish you were here for our BBQ tonight, a mid week BBQ is the way to go, you would have agreed for sure as it
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was one of your favourite things to do. Perfect summer evening with water bomb fights and kids in the garden laughing in their pants, soaking each other with the hose. Enjoying the balmy weather and long evenings.
But you’re not here.
Your disease robbed Cooper of a father and me of a great love. We weren’t a traditional family in any sense but nonetheless we were a family. We now have to take these steps in the hope that on some level you are with us. Of course you live on through our son. He reminds me of you in so many ways not least in the
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way he looks, sometimes an expression he makes will stop me in my tracks such is the resemblance. That tiny human who was handed to you as he was pulled from my belly. Yours was the very first face he saw. He will never see your face again apart from in photographs where time will always stand still for him age 7.
I just wish you were here.
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claire davies - 21 Jul 16
George I wish you were here. To delight in Cooper’s school report with me. To read and re read it our hearts swelling with pride, dissecting each part at length, each time finding some new element to relish.
I wish you were here for his leavers assembly. Coop and his buddy were chosen to share their memories of the school, you would have been so proud to sit and watch him confidently speak in front of over 100 people about fun school trips and wonderful teachers. Our gorgeous, amazing boy is growing up and taking the leap from the nurturing Infants to the brave new world that is The Juniors. Thank you cards have been written, gifts have been chosen. Tears have been shed at every, single, stage.
I wish you were here to meet his new teacher. To hear about a new school, see his new classroom, the playground where he’ll play football with his mates. To order a big boy blazer, shirts and tie. I wish you were here to show him how to tie his tie and take him to school on his first day.
I wish you were here for our BBQ tonight, a mid week BBQ is the way to go, you would have agreed for sure as it was one of your favourite things to do. Perfect summer evening with water bomb fights and kids in the garden laughing in their pants, soaking each other with the hose. Enjoying the balmy weather and long evenings.
But you’re not here.
Your disease robbed Cooper of a father and me of a great love. We weren’t a traditional family in any sense but nonetheless we were a family. We now have to take these steps in the hope that on some level you are with us. Of course you live on through our son. He reminds me of you in so many ways not least in the way he looks, sometimes an expression he makes will stop me in my tracks such is the resemblance. That tiny human who was handed to you as he was pulled from my belly. Yours was the very first face he saw. He will never see your face again apart from in photographs where time will always stand still for him age 7.
I just wish you were here.
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Mother to Cooper. Lover of travelling. Optimist. Organiser.
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