my turn to cry ( Archived) (9)

my turn to cry

the clinical environment
is interrupted by the nurse
she confirms my name
and then her supportive stance
seems to prepare me
she looks at me for long seconds
her head cocked to one side
eyes crinkled, a grimace of pain
shy, perhaps embarrassed
her face and demeanour
willing a telepathic message

she speaks softly
baby has gone
I’m so sorry

nothing prepares you
there is no response
a dull ache explodes
clouds of unexplained nemesis
descend, strangling all thought

I hear her gentle words
would you like to see him?
my head nods instinctively
and I follow robotically

curtain pulled back
my son lies diminutively
engulfed in the vast chasm
of the hospital bed

I reach for his hand
tiny fingers so perfectly formed
my eyes scan his rosy soft pinkness
heartache rushes in, assaults
every inch of my being

oh please …
God …
help my son …
take me …
whatever you want
don’t let this be …
it can’t …
I ..
oh no

tears will not come
the world is trampled around me
I feel a tender hand on my shoulder
a dear friend
face set firmly, keeping a grip
I bury my head in his shoulder

he’s only ten weeks old
how …?
why …?
Nigel has no answers
there are no adequate responses
my son Richard Alan
has passed on

with a stiff upper lip
I pass through the valley
comforting all and sundry
wondering
when is it my turn to cry?

thanks all for your words and thoughts. it was
a long time ago and life does move on. It has
been the most heart rending experience of my
life and for others aswell.

time does not erase memories, especially of
a child lost at such a tender age, when all the
expectations are that parents pass away first.

it certainly was a difficult time and I went through
agonies and also put others through them,

I have no shame of tears or feelings now and
face whatever may come, without the stiff
upper lip and open to emotion.