As I began to shower the feeling of numbness was indescribable, my thoughts were all over the place with my emotions in turmoil. As I began washing my hair, my hands were suddenly touching Liam’s hair and I remembered how he used to fuss about it when going out with his friends. My fingers moved down my forehead and I remembered how he’d sit on my lap as a toddler and run his fingers across the furrows of my brow.
Down across the tops of my eyes I began thinking of his beautiful thick eyebrows, my soapy hands washed down my face and I remembered how he had a little bump on the inside of his nose and how it was the first thing I noticed about him when he was born. I remembered his cheeks with the little mole he had on the right side, his teeth and how beautiful they were after all the treatment he’d had with the orthodontist. My top lip reminded me of how he’d just started with the first signs of hair and how I used to tease him as he’d just started shaving. The soap ran down my arms, down my legs and as I watched the water drain from the shower, I thought how I would never again see my beautiful son and tell him how much I loved him, all gone in an instant.
The feelings I were experiencing were extraordinary, to the point where I find it impossible to describe. I instantly became aware of how someone so precious can be lost in the time it takes to switch off a light bulb. The feelings of emptiness and numbness were overwhelming. To lose a child just seemed incomprehensible, after all, this was supposed to happen to other people.
Once out of the shower, I dried myself and slowly wandered into Liam’s bedroom. There, by the side of his bed, was a small paperback that Lauren had bought him for Christmas, entitled, ‘One hundred things to do before you die.’ In the corner of the room was the chair he used to sit on while at his computer. I could still see him from the night before. His drums, his trainers lined up by his bed and the nest of empty glasses once filled with the milk he used to so much enjoy drinking. I could hear myself shouting at him, “For god’s sake Liam, for the umpteenth time please take those empty glasses downstairs.” I then felt guilty that I ever raised my voice to him. I remembered all the times we spent together, the day trips I’d take him on when he was younger and how I loved his company. I slumped onto the bed next to his shirt, which he’d thrown down the night before, picked it up and buried my face in it. I could smell him and almost feel him. I began to lick the shirt. No matter how little, I wanted to have as much of my boy as possible. I sobbed and wept as I pressed the shirt to my face.
Flowers continued to adorn the house while during the rest of the day there was a continuous flow of friends arriving to share our grief. This became normal for the following days, friends continually around us late into the evenings. This was the one thing that helped us enormously, it was more help to us than anyone could imagine, making us realise just how lucky we are to have such wonderful friends.
