Hiya son,

Sorry I’ve not updated sooner.  As you probably guessed from my last couple of posts, I tend to get pretty depressed around your birthday and Xmas, and I figured I’d spare you the melancholy and wait till I was able to post something a little more light hearted and happy for you before I commited text to page again.

Around this time of year, I end up wondering how you are, what you are doing, all that kind of thing.  I think about you all the time, but around xmas, its especially hard. I see friends making plans with their families and walk into conversations which people cut off with an “Oh, sorry, this must be hard for you, we’ll wait till you’re gone….” and I feel it pretty hard.

Ironically, I never really believed in the whole xmas thing.  I never understood why people needed a special time of year to tell each other what they think or feel, and still don’t really.  In my opinion you just tell them when you feel it, and don’t wait for a specific date when its ok to tell them.  We each face the possibility every day that we might not have the option to tell them these things at the next Xmas break, and to be honest, if i want to be nice to someone, Ill do it when I want to, and not because Im supposed to.  But xmas is all about kids.  I didnt spend many xmas’s with you, work robbed me of one xmas, and being away stole the rest, but the ones I did have with you were incredible.  Seeing you get excited about random things bound with paper was great.  Laughing as you got more excited by boxes than the toys inside them, cuddles and playing with the latest police car or fire engine, and watching christmas movies with you was something I feel very lucky to have been part of.

This year, here in wales, we had snow for xmas.  Actually its still snowing now, we’ve had it on and off for the past 4-5 weeks and the cold dark nights make me just want to curl up at home infront of the fire and snooze infront of the tv.  Every now and again I walk past snowmen in the street, the efforts of local kids to make the most of all the snow, and I feel a stab of envy.  I’d love to have you here to play with the dogs, throw snow balls and make snow men.  I’d take you out with a sled and a thermos of something warm to drink and some sandwiches and we could go off and have adventures in the snow.

I love the snow, for a lot of reasons.  Im a cold weather person, and this kind of weather is like the ideal temperature for me.  During the day I feel more energised and motivated than any other time of the year. At night I look forward to getting cosy, having hugs on the sofa and then slipping in to a nice warm bed where I can snuggle down away from the cold.  In some cultures snow is seen as a good thing, returning the worlds innocence a little, wiping the slate clean and starting over fresh, and sometimes when Im stood there in the latest blizzard, covered in the stuff, I can’t help but feel like maybe im getting my slate cleaned a little too.

I guess you’ve probably been out of school a little with the weather. I heard on the news that a lot of schools near you were closed, and I had my fingers crossed that you’d get more than your fair share of snow days to enjoy at home. I was chatting to my partner the other day, about things to do in the snow, and I was wondering how many you’d managed to pack in for yourself.  I wonder if you went sledding. I wonder if you threw snowballs at your friends and your brother, and made snow angels on the ground.  I wonder if you made snowmen, or had one of those slips on the ice that leaves you sat down, breathless and laughing at yourself.  I wonder if you followed foot prints in the snow, to see where they went, and imagined strange stories behind them.

I hope you had a great Xmas, son, and a wonderful new year. I hope you got to stay up late and listen to big ben as it rang in the new year, and that you were, and are, really happy.

I’m posting this from work at the moment, so will have to end this message where it is for now, but hopefully I’ll get some time later to write some more for you soon.

Take care of yourself son, and be happy.

I love you,

Dad

Yesterday I spent a while, working through my head some of the things I’d like to have said to you. Little bits of advice, ideas, things like that, which I eventually left out because they didnt seem to fit in with what the post was all about.

But since I thought of them they’ve been on my mind, and in running some of those things through I’ve realised that some probably wouldn’t have made sense, and others I should probably hold back till some other time anyway.

One thing though, has stuck with me, and seems appropriate and through the course of thinking things through has kind of crystalised into a thought I’d really like to write down.

It probably doesn’t sound like much now, but maybe later you’ll understand where I’m coming from, so I hope you don’t mind bearing with me.

A little while ago, I found myself wandering around some of the places I used to go to as a kid, not much older than you are now.  When I was little we could climb over the fence in my back garden and walk right up the mountain and into the woods behind the house.

When I was little I found this path, probably a small animal trail or something, that lead all the way along the side of the mountain.  Back then it seemed to go on forever, and eventually you came to this part where you could leave the path, and climb right up the side of the mountain.

I used to walk up there a lot, and I found this cool little spot near the top of the mountain that you could sit on that over looked the village below and gave you views for several miles up and down the valley.  Just above the outcrop that I used to go to was what seemed like a giant cliff of rocks that seemed to have some kind of cave at the top.

When I was a kid, it seemed huge, and whilst it wasnt all that difficult a climb, I never managed to work up the nerve to climb up and take a look.

Going back, as an adult, I was expecting to see the giant cliff of my childhood, still vast, rocky and dangerous, as forboding as my memory told me it should be.

Instead I found a small pile of rocks, which I could scramble up with ease, and I realised it wasn’t all that big at all, the cave at the top nothing more than a small gap between the rocks, probably lived in by rabbits and foxes rather than the monsters and dinosaurs I had imagined as a kid.  I was disappointed, in a way, and felt cheated.  Over the years I had grown up, but the places from my childhood had stayed the same, and what seemed insurmountable back then was such a silly thing now.

The moral of the story then is a simple one. Climb your mountains as you find them, even if they scare you a little. Do the things that you yearn to do but are a little afraid or worried about.  I dont mean go crazy and climb up power pilon’s and play chicken in traffic, just the little things, that seem bigger than they should be.  Ride that ride at the fun fair, go for that camping trip and explore your own mountains.

As a kid you’ll have an adventure, when its done you’ll know the thrill of doing something daring.  You might learn new things about yourself, the people around you or the world, and you might just find that dinosaur at the back of the cave.
As a grown up, you’ll discover its all a lot smaller, less “important” and that its nothing more than a couple of rocks.

I hope this advice helps you some day son, and that you enjoy your adventures and discoveries.
Take care of yourself little guy, I love you, as always.
Dad

Hope you’re having a great time and that you got all the things you were hoping for this year.
Not long left before you’re up to double digits, and it still seems like yesterday when you were small enough for me to hold you in one hand.
By now, all those years ago, we had met for the first time and I knew then as I know now that I loved you above and beyond anything else I had ever known in this world.  You were in recovery with your mum right about now, and I was outside, chain smoking away, on the phone telling everyone I had a number for about you, how wonderful and beautiful you were and how proud I was to be your dad.
I’ve been away from you now longer than I was with you, and today is harder than most because its your birthday.  I’m sorry I cant be there with you, cant give you a hug and some cool present and tell you how much I love you and how proud I am of the person you are becoming. The years apart seem to have flown past, so fast it almost makes me dizzy, whilst for you, Im sure, blessed with youth each day stretches on like a whole lifetime, where “just 5 more minutes” seems like days, a week seems like years and your whole life is full of minutes which you pack full of seconds.
So with my love of you, and this message today son, I hope the gift of this advice does something to make up for not having a card or a transformer or a dvd.  Never be in a hurry to grow up.  Enjoy each day as it comes, relish the things around you and never waste time on anticipation and expectation.  Things that will happen will happen, things that won’t never will.  Pack every minute with 60 seconds of living and worry about being older when youre older.
Take care little dude, and happy birthday.
I love you.
Dad

Heya, lil’un hope this latest post finds you well.

Its been a couple of week’s since my last post, for which I apologise, but things being things I’ve not had a chance to sit down and do much writing recently.  At the moment though I guess its kind of moot, you probably haven’t found this site yet, and I haven’t really fallen into any kind of sustainable update cycle yet, which I need to do really if I’m going to stop myself from running out of stuff to talk about.

Most of my spare time recently has been taken up getting everything sorted for a new degree I’m starting on, a Bsc in Psychology.  For a long time now I’ve been trying to find a direction for my career really, and this degree will help me get where I hope to be going.  I don’t want to spill the beans too much now, as I can go into that some other time, but for now I hope you can be pleased for your old man for getting on a course and making the effort to try.

What I really wanted to chat about this time was something that came to mind while I was sat on the train home this evening.

I tend to space out on the train.  Put the headphones on, turn on the music and tune out the noise of the people around me and let my mind wander away from the day I’ve just had and onto other things.

Today for some reason I found myself thinking of where everything started with you.  Maybe it was the intensity of the sunlight through the window that reminded me of how bright it was that day, and I found myself remembering the day you were born.

Some dad’s opt out of the whole thing, and stride around the waiting room hoping for the noise of a cry, or the kind words of a nurse or orderly about the whole thing.  I know my brother can’t face it at all.  Its crazy, in the army he saw some things, but when it comes to child birth its like he’s 3 years old and squeamish over a cut or a graze again, and I know he does his best to forget the process involved in the birth of his children.

Fortunately, I’m blessed with a great memory and a far better stomach, and I remember it well enough that I could even now probably tell you where everything was, what was said and what it all looked like when you first entered the world.

I don’t know if your mum, or brother or anyone else ever said, but you were one of the most planned for kids in the history of birthing.  Me and your mum had been together for a while, and had been trying for a baby for ages.  She had gotten pregnant before, but miscarried, and I remember how horrible that experience had been.  But we had wanted that child, and so loosing it just made us want a baby all the more.  When we found out about you, we were over the moon, and I’ve never been more excited in my life before or since those 9 months of torture waiting for you to arrive.

During her pregnancy with you, your mum developed diabete’s and with her age we had doctors telling us all kinds of things that we should be worried about.  I think your mum underwent every test under the sun to make sure you were going to be ok, although we drew the line at tests that might hurt you, or put you at risk.  I dont think I’ve ever spent so much time in a hospital in all honesty, with all the scans, blood tests, glucose tolerance tests and so on, but it was worth it.

I remember the ultrasound scans we had done, and for a long time afterwards I kept a copy of your first ultrasound picture with me, until it was lost, along with some of my favorite photos of you, when the people at work decided to destroy everything in my locker because they thought it wasn’t in use.  I was really gutted about that.

The first ultrasound is funny, you really dont get to see anything, just a little blob moving a little with a pulse, but watching it on screen was incredible, I could have sat there for hours, though I dont think your mum would have lasted too long, as she had to drink gallons of water to help the pictures come out.  I remember finding out that they could hook up these little microphones to play your heartbeat on a speaker too, and I remember having to fight the urge to ask the nurses to put one on your mum so we could listen.

The second ultrasound is the first one where you can really see anything, and going in we were warned, as all new parents are, that whilst it is sometimes possible to find out a babies sex at this point, you couldnt always tell.  We had discussed it a lot before then anyway, and to be honest in my head I’d already decided you were a boy, even though your mum had wanted a girl as she already had your brother, and I think we’d settled on the idea that if they could tell what you were, we didnt mind knowing, but we were happy to wait for the suprise otherwise.

She got up on the bed and the nurse began the scan and started to ask if we wanted to know what you were, when you moved on screen, and we all kind of laughed together and said “well we know what he is now”.

As the pregnancy went on, it became pretty clear that to have you, your mum was going to have to have a caesarian section.  She’s pretty small, you were getting pretty big, it just wasnt going to happen any other way and still be safe, so the doctors kind of picked the day for us and we knew long before most parents get to the exact date that we were going to have you.

It got to the day, and we drove down to hospital early so your mum could get there in time for her appointment.  They made us sit around a bit, signed a few forms and things and did all the usual pre-op stuff  and pretty soon we found ourselves being taken down to the delivery rooms.  Your mum was taken in to the room before me, because they had to give her an epidural to help with the operation.  I on the other hand ended up sat on a bench in the corridor, grinning inanely at every passing person who looked in my direction.  It would have been less obvious if I’d just painted “New Dad” on my head I expect.

One of the nurses came out and told me to put on some scrubs, and these silly little plastic things over my shoes.  I remember trying to get them on, but I’ve got pretty big feet, and I trashed 3 of them before they went and got some special huge ones for me.  I was only waiting about 10 minutes, but it felt like years, but I was buzzing and all my nerves and senses were electrified.  It was intense.

Eventually this anaethetist came out for me.  I wish I knew his name, or could remember any more than that he was small and grey haired, but the guy earned my eternal love and respect for saying “Hi, we’ve harpooned the whale, you can come in now”

It was one of those medical jokes he probably rattles off to all the parents he meets, cuts the ice, breaks the tension, that kind of thing, but I’ll always remember him saying it.

So I followed him in, and sat on what looked like a bar stool besides your mum whilst the surgeons finished performing the caesarian.  Your mum kept telling me she felt out of breath and I remember trying to explain it was just the epidural making her feel like that.  There were 2 nurses in the room, who kept talking at me, but by that point I was just watching for signs of you, and my all my attention was on that.

Then at 10:08am there was an almighty splash as the surgeons finished their job, and the nurses came and scooped you up out of view.  I didnt even have time to get concerned, you cried straight away, long and loud and clear, and made sure the whole room knew you had arrived.  As the cry died off you made a burbling noise, and I filled up with tears, still grinning like a cheshire cat, wishing the nurses would stop what they were doing and give you to me.   You were weighed, 7pounds, 10 ounces, and I remember thinking wow, thats almost the same as the time you were born, but backwards, and its how I still remember it.

Eventually they brought you over to me, wrapped up in a blue and pink stripy towel really tightly.  Your skin was all dark and you were blowing bubbles, but you opened your eyes, just once and stared right at me and smiled, before closing them again, and I remember everything going then, all the worry, all the concern, all the nerves.  I stopped hearing things, stopped seeing anything, I was just rapt with the sight of you and if they had let me, I’d have walked out of the door with you there and then.  It’s not a sensation I can describe really, I just dont have the words.  Theres nothing so enormous and incredible seeming as that moment of holding you was for me.  You were this little thing, a little pink face and a lot of towel, but you seemed bigger and more important than the whole world, and in that respect at least for me, nothing has ever really changed.

In the background I realised a nurse was talking to me, trying to take you away, and I realised that your mum was starting to struggle a bit.  She had a real problem with feeling out of breath and confined back then, and may still do now, and in their efforts to make her more comfortable, all the doctors and nurses crowding round were making it worse.  With all the painkillers and things they had her on, I don’t think she really knew what was going on, and was trying to stand up, and one of the nurses took you away to hold you near her hoping it would calm her down.  I’m sorry to say that I’ll probably always hate the nurse for doing it. I know she was doing what she thought best, it was just her job and all that, and that she had the very best motives at heart, but she broke into that moment I’d had with you and its the kind of thing that just triggers an immediate, permanent, response.

I was ushered out of the room at this point.  I think they were worried I’d get upset, or probably they just wanted the extra space, but I made my way out and phoned everyone I knew to talk about you.  About an hour later, they called me up to see you and your mum wheeled out of the recovery room, and I got to see you again while she slept.  I got to give you your very first feed and change your first nappy, and whilst I probably didnt do the best job, I enjoyed it anyway, and if I wasnt doing it right, you didnt seem to mind.

Later that evening a nurse came to do a little blood test.  They prick the bottom of your foot and take a little sample, its nothing major and happens to all kids when theyre born, but it made you cry, and it was all I could do to stop myself punching the poor little nurse for doing it. Really hadnt realised how strong the urge to protect you would be up to that point, but man did I know then.

The tests came back with some problems.  It had always been a concern that your mums diabete’s may have caused you to develop some problems yourself, and it looked like that while no permanent problems had been caused, you did have some trace things in your blood that were a concern, so they took you off to the intensive care unit.  I explained the situation to your brother, so he could tell your mum when she woke up, and I came with you, because I didnt want to let you out of my sight.

You were admitted to the ICU at around 7pm that night, I remember because I still have the polaroid photo the nurses took of you, aged only 9 hours old in the little plastic cribb they put you in, all wrapped up in the woollen blanket your nan had made you.  The nurses there were lovely, and they really loved you.  They kept telling me how gorgeous you were, and I couldnt help but agree.  I sat beside you holding your hand watching the other parents of the other kids in the unit come and go.  There were 2 premature babies in there, opposite you, aged only 5 months, and I remember the parents coming in and out, crying the whole time. The babies weren’t expected to survive at all.  In the corner was an older baby, a few days old, that they had to keep injecting with heroin because her mum had been an addict while she was pregnant and the baby had become one too.  It used to cry so hard it hurt just to hear it.  There were two others, I dont remember what was wrong with them, only that the mums would come in quietly and watch them and cry for a while before going again, and how the nurses in there coped I have no idea.

I knew when you were taken in there that you were going to be fine, the nurses had said it was purely to keep an eye on you and make sure nothing was wrong, and so sitting there next to my perfect, handsome little son, his hand wrapped around my little finger sleeping quietly, I felt guilty, and glad.  Guilty that I had to sit there and witness all the pain the other parents were going through, knowing we werent really meant to be there, and so glad that it wasnt us.  Every passing minute there just reinforced for me how lucky we were, how special you were, and how much I loved you.  I remember there was a rule that only two family members were allowed in to see you at once, and I used to get so angry when people would come to see you in pairs, because I had to leave the room, and because Id have to share you.

You weren’t there long tho, before they let you out and back with your mum.  In the week that followed during her recovery we found out that you seemed to like watching football on the tv over her bed, and that you liked the little bottles of SMA milk over the other kind.  All the staff there knew you by name, and most of them had found time to tell me how gorgeous and special you were.  I didn’t need them to tell me, but it was lovely to keep hearing it.

When we finally got you home, things felt right, and I could finally hug you properly and not have to let go, I didnt have to wait till visiting time to feed you, and I could just hold you close and enjoy you.

Part of being away from you means that I’ll always have sad memories, like the last time I saw you.  I’ll always have memories of times I was scared for you, or worried about you.  But to balance it all out, I will always have memories like the first time I saw you, and I’m very lucky that they are such clear memories. Those memories, above all the others, always make me glad and happy even if they make me tearful too.  They warm me up and keep me going, and remind me of just how incredibly special and wonderful you are.

They’re memories about love.

Take care of yourself, lil’dude.  Be good, and be happy and remember that even if I can’t be there to let you know, I love you.

Dad..

Hiya son, I hope this one finds you well.

I’ve heard through sources I can’t go into (incase they get stopped) that you’re doing well at school, and took part in some acting stuff recently and got a really high grade.  Wish I’d been there to see it, and I hope one day you can tell me what you did, but in the mean time, im proud of you for finding something you enjoy doing and doing so well at it.

I’ve seen some newish pic’s of you too, and you really have grown up.  You look happy, and I’m glad that life gives you reason to smile like that, and you look really handsome in those clothes too, so you obviously didnt inherit any of my looks lol.

As you can tell from the time stamp on this post, its pretty late right now, or early, depending on how you view these things, and as happens quite often for me, I’ve been kept up with a head full of things I wish I could share.  Inevitably I end up lying there, staring at the ceiling, replaying the same sentences and describing the same scenes over and over to you, and normally I’d probably end up doing that till I upset myself, head downstairs for a cup of coffee and a cigarette, and then head upstairs and try to get a few hours kip before heading out to work.

These days, with the internet being so much more accessible than it used to be, and with my finally having got this site up and running, I’ve got the added option of actually telling you about it, and tonight I’m doing just that.

One of the memories that haunts me most about you is the last time I saw you.  It was after I’d left, but until that last time, I didn’t realise just how permanent my departure really had become I guess and so it’s that time that really sticks with me, whilst actually moving away for work some 7 months before that doesn’t really register at all.

As you might already know, I’d left you in August when I got what seemed like the job offer of a lifetime, and in the space of 4 days I went from being offered an interview for a job, starting the job, and quitting my old one with Blueyonder, and moving to Bradford to work full time on a computer game.

The events around then, and on through the next 7 months were pretty hard going and one day I’m sure that I’ll fill you in on what I can, but like I said, at that time I really thought you guys were coming with me, and so I didnt really feel like I was leaving then.

Easter weekend in March, 7 months after that is when I knew, and even now, so many years on that time of year see’s me falling into the kind of depression I hope you never have cause to imagine.

I can’t remember the exact events leading up to it all, but I’ll do the best I can.  I’m not sure why but it was a quiet time at work.  It was school holidays, so a lot of players were on, but there were no major problems coming up, and tons of staff on with not much to do so I decided to take some well earned time off.  I left work early, and headed straight over to the train station, booked myself some return tickets on the next train over and made my way home.  As the train pulled into the station it was late, really dark, maybe 7 or 8 o’clock and I figured I better call your mum and let her know I was on my way.  If I remember right, I just called her out of the blue and asked if she wanted me to pick her up a bag of chips or something, incase she hadn’t eaten already and because I thought it was a nice way to suprise her.

She didn’t want any though, and I walked back from the station and came home to find you asleep on the sofa whilst your mum chatted with your cousin in the back room.  Desperate as I was to give you cuddles and hear you talking, I decided I’d let you carry on sleeping on the sofa till you woke up on your own, and so sat with your mum in the back room filling her in on all the latest news and stuff from work, finding out how you were getting on, and generally catching up.

I think I’d been there about half an hour, maybe an hour, before you woke up.  I must have been talking because you seemed to know I was there straight away even though you couldn’t see me, and I remember the feeling in my stomach and the tears well up as you sleepily called “Daddy” over the sofa.  Your mum and cousin both “awwwwed” in the backroom as I left them and headed straight into the front room to see you.

We cuddled for ages, and you told me that you loved me and that you missed me, and I just snuggled up and held you, too choked up to really talk back.  After a while you started to collect toy’s to show me, all the new ones you’d had over the past few months, and we played for a little while until you got tired again and decided to sit on my lap and watch tv.

After that I’m not to sure how things went exactly. I can’t remember if I stayed the night and your mum drove us to Bradford that night, or the night after.  I think it was the night after though.  She came round to take a look at the flat I was living in, because I was hoping she’d like it enough for you guys to move over with me, and also to collect some of the stuff I had left behind, as I’d originally left with nothing more than a rucksack full of as many clothes as it could carry, and a spare pair of boots.

We got back to my flat pretty late, and I remember us getting lost on the way.  I think that the council there had added a round about that didnt show up on any of the maps we had and so we kept ending up skirting around where we needed to go, and I think we drove around in circles for a good hour or two.

Eventually we arrived though, and I remember you falling up the stairs to the flat and me thinking that that wasn’t a good sign at the time.  Pretty soon it was forgotten though, and I remember sitting back on the sofa, barely listening to what your mum was saying as I enjoyed the feeling in the flat with you there.  For the first time in the 4 months I’d been there it felt like it was actually a home.  I guess you wont understand till you have kids of your own, but there was something about having you in there, running around and bashing things that made it feel full and lived in and really made it a home.  I guess its kind of like the difference between a hotel room and a house.  Hotel rooms can be ok, have all the mod-cons you need, a comfy bed, nice furnishings etc, but really theyre just a place you go to sleep.  You dont feel like its a place to live, and never feel like you really belong.  A house on the other hand, can have nothing special to speak of, but still has that warm, welcoming feeling that makes you feel like its a home.

You guys stayed overnight, and it didn’t take you long to claim the part of my bed that I normally slept in.  It wasn’t long before I found myself sleeping on my sofa to give you guys the room to sleep.

It was bad weather that weekend, if I recall, and I was worried about your mum driving back on her own with you in the car. We waited to see if the weather would ease up, but it never got any better and in the end I figured I still had my unused return train ticket, so climbed in the car with you guys for the drive back, where I’d get right back on the train back.

The drive didn’t take long, the weather had kept the roads pretty clear and I remember us pulling into the station car park as if it was yesterday.  Maybe its just my memory playing tricks on me, or maybe because of a weird problem I have with my eyes some times, but it was so cloudy and bright, but dark at the same time. It was like all the colour was drained out of everything and leeched away and the world had suddenly become black and white.

Your mum got you out of the car, and I hugged you for what seemed like an age.  For some reason I suddenly felt like I had to make the most of the contact, and held on to you till we heard the train start to pull up at the station behind us.  Then I had to hand you back to your mum and I think then you realised what was going on, and you pulled away from her trying not to let me go.

The wind made your cheeks red raw with the cold, and I remember the tears on your face as you reached out to me.  You called out to me and screamed and wailed, kicking at your mum and trying to get me to hold you again.  It’s a scene I replay in my head all the time, and it always hurts like you wouldn’t believe.  It pops up in my head sometimes for no reason, and kicks at the inside of my head like a mule.

I walked away from you, and boarded the train, the only sound in my ears your crying and calling, reaching me despite the wind, tearing at my soul.

The train journey took about 5 hours.  It seemed like 5 years.  Something in me knew what was coming, and so in that way we all do, rather than facing a difficult thought in public, I held it off with random rubbish.  I counted the number of check’s in the seat patterns around me. I counted the stitches, read the graffiti, timed the rhythm of the train over the rails and sang lines of songs over and over in my head.  I must have looked like a zombie sat there as I was, either staring into space or focusing on some minute detail no one else could notice in the train around us.

Eventually I got back to Bradford, off the train and straight into a taxi.  In all honesty it wasn’t much more than a 10 minute walk from the station to my flat, but I knew I was starting to unravel and didn’t think I’d hold it together if I walked.  In actual fact I managed to hold it in all the way up to my front door.

I dont remember the taxi ride. I dont remember paying the driver, or opening the door to my block.  I just about remember fumbling at my door, shaking like a leaf and desperately trying to blink tears away whilst holding my breath to stop the noises my throat was trying to make.  I managed to unlock all the locks, and stumbled through the door like some crazy disheveled person, holding onto the frame to hold myself upright till I was in and could lean back on it as I closed it.

I gave in right there and let myself know what I somehow already knew and had kept from myself the whole way home. I sank to the floor, my long leather coat unfurling around me as I howled and sobbed my way to the carpet, tears streaming down my face as I curled up against the door.  I knew I’d never see you again, and I knew that my flat would never feel like it had no more than just a few hours ago.  I knew I’d never hear you running up and down the hall, or your arms around my neck and as each new loss hit me I felt my world unravel around me like some cheap knitted sweater in a kids cartoon.

I stayed there, curled up and crying till it was light again.  I remember realising that the light outside had gone out and that the sun was shining through the door, and that my body ached and I needed to move, but I couldn’t do it.  I don’t know how long it took me to crawl up the hall, dragging myself by my finger tips, but I do remember that for every inch I managed to move it took me several minutes of crying and shaking to do it.   I remember it was getting dark again by the time I made it to the sofa, by which time I’d cried myself completely dry, my throat was raw and I was shaking as much with exhaustion as much with sadness.

I dont remember much of the next few days.  Somewhere along the line I must have slept, taken off my coat and fetched myself some food and water, but for the most part after that I  lay on my sofa, completely catatonic.

After that I’m not sure exactly. Something happened, maybe I had a phone call or a text.  I think it was the crazy Kiwi from upstairs came to check on me.  He was a psychiatric nurse and one of the nicest guys you’ll ever meet.  Not sure, but eventually events made me face up to the fact that I couldnt just stay there forever and I had to move and carry on, and so I did.  I think I was on autopilot for a couple of weeks after that, not really registering anything, just going through the motions, and slowly I kind of started picking up the reigns again.

And so thats the end of my late night story for now.  I’m sorry it’s not a happy one like the shower thing, or watching dan dare on a saturday, but its the one which kept me up and which I really needed to share.  I guess I just needed you to know that losing you wasn’t an easy thing, or a planned thing or anything like that.  You mean too much to me for it to have been easy and despite what people say it never gets easier either. Over time you get used to the pain of it, and you learn how to cope with it better, and it becomes part of who you are.  It never ever goes away.

But the love doesn’t go away either.  I still love you every bit as much now as I did then. The joy you brought me still makes me smile, the memory of your laugh still warms me and the sound of you calling my name of the back of the sofa that time still echos in my head and makes me happy.  For those things if nothing else, it was worth the pain, and whilst it might kill me to do it all again, I’d do it gladly for you son.

I’d best let you go now, lil dude.  That’s a pretty big wall of text right there and it’s way past my bed time.

Take care of yourself little guy,

I love you

Dad

Heya lil dude, sorry I meant to update this sooner, or even better straight away, but things being things I got snowed under a small mountain of work through the rest of the day friday, and spent the weekend travelling and pulling together all the odds and end’s id been asked for in order to push my university application through.

I had planned on starting off by telling you about where I’d been, what I’ve been up to and things, but I’ve been trying for a while and can’t think of a place to start.

So instead I’ll start with a random memory I had last night instead, and I guess I’ll fill you in on the rest when it comes and its easier to write down.

I’m not sure why I thought of it in all honesty. I think I’d just seen something on TV, or maybe I’d heard something on the radio, you know how it goes I’m sure, but I’ll scribble it here for both of us to share again.

Back when you were 2 you had this real problem with showers.  Much as you loved the bath, you really hated the shower.  Possibly because your mum used to use it to wash shampoo out of your hair and it got in your eyes, or maybe just the idea of water on your head or something, I’m really not sure.

This one time, during the afternoon, we were trying to give you a bath.  Normally we tried to take it in turns, although I think it ended up more my turn than your mum’s, but for some reason this one time we were both sat in the bathroom at the same time looking out for you.  One of your favorite games was to try and splash me, and this was no exception.  You were playing with your boats, flicking water at me and giggling away and eventually I was pretty drenched and you were giggling away in that way you did when you were having fun.

I guess it was time to do your hair, not sure why now, but for some reason the whole shower thing came up, and I was bothered by the fact that you’d sit in a bath for hours turning into a prune, but that the shower really upset you.  Anyways while you were busy making farty noises with your feet in the plug hole, I decided I’d try to cure your fear of the shower.

Your mum was always funny about me being in the bath with you. Over protective perhaps, not sure how things are when you come to read this, but at the time every one was worried about what was “politically correct” and what wasn’t and I guess she was just worried that it was wrong for a dad to climb in the bath with their kid whilst undressed, and the few times we had bathed together I’d worn boxers to keep her happy.

Anyhoos with all that, and the fact that I was pretty soaked anyway, I climbed in the tub behind you, still wearing a grey t-shirt and black tracksuit bottoms, if memory serves… my old scruffy monging about clothes.  I stood under the shower while you watched, and turned it on, rapidly soaking through my clothes and everything.  You got scared for a while, then started flicking water at me, and slowly started to warm up to the idea of the shower.
I stood there for ages, flicking water and filling up bottles for you to spray me with and you started to have a great little time making sure your dad was all soaked in the tub and pretty soon I think you’d forgotten about the shower completely.  The whole time your mum was telling me I was stupid and shaking her head, but I think she enjoyed watching the two of us be silly anyway.

That time was pretty near to when I left, and I don’t remember now if it helped cure your fear of the shower.  You may even still be scared of it, though I doubt it now.  But it’s a memory I’m glad to hang on to, of me and my son being really stupid in the tub, me shivering with the cold and you laughing and giggling and trying as hard as you could to make sure I got splashed in the face.

We had loads of great times like that. Silly little games and things we’d get up to in all kinds of places and situations.  I don’t know if you remember them or me at all, but there isn’t a day that goes past where I’m not reminded of something like that, some random memory of me and you.  Sometimes it makes me sad, because I know those times are gone now, and I wont get them back.  Sometimes it make’s me happy that we did those things together, and always it reminds me that I still love you.

Take care of yourself, Caleb, till next time I get to post on here.
Love
Dad.

Hi Caleb, it’s me, your Dad.
I don’t know how you came to find this site, or even if you ever will, but if you make it here and you’re reading this, then before anything else, know that I love you.
Its been 5 years, at the time of writing this post, since you last heard me say that, and even if you read it the day this site and post go live, it’s been far too long already.

I’ve put this site together for us, and I’ll do my best to keep it running and online for as long as I possibly can in the hopes that you one day find it.  As its a public website, other people may find it from time to time, I can’t help that, which means that to protect you I can’t say too much about who either of us are, as I don’t want to find myself responsible for inflicting some strange cyber-stalker person on you or anything like that.

As a result I hope the hints and things I am able to say here are enough that you know this site is meant for you.  For the other son’s looking for a message from their dad’s, I hope this gives you some hope and comfort. Whilst we aren’t always there, we still love you, still miss you and always wish we could be closer than we are.

You probably have a lot of questions, and there are some that I can answer for you and some that I can’t.  My real dad left me when I wasn’t much older than when I lost you, and so I have a fair idea of the things you’ve probably thought about or wanted to ask.  Probably the most important answer you probably need though, and it may not help till you are much older, is that it wasn’t your fault.  The reason I’m not there wasn’t because of anything you did or said or anything like that, and there wasn’t anything you could have done differently that would have changed anything back then.

So that’s the introduction to our site lil dude. I know its not much, but I don’t want to write too much now and get stuck for words later. In the mean time take care of yourself ok, I love you, and miss you interminably.
…Dad