Pale blue eyes

Time away from the boy is a mixed blessing. Gives you time to think. And that inevitably involves the boy. This may not be helpful.

My lie in today. Read the paper for a bit - a rare indolent pleasure. But then I started to think about the boy. I didn't nean to. I tried not to. I couldn't help it. And bit by bit I crumbled. The tipping point was when I realised I could no longer remember his voice. And would never hear it again. Without work to brace myself for, there was nothing to stem the ebb and no reason to. Found myself wandering into his bedroom to smell that he was still with us. The scent of medicines and equipment. The smell of his clothes and pillow.

I could barely bring myself to go downstairs. Seeing him mute and immobile set me off again. It took me a couple of hours and a short walk to get it back together. Not very helpful for the wife. When it is just me and him I put music on so there's not just the sound of my voice.

The boy barely has the wherewithall to shake his head or nod. The tumour or the morphine, I can't be sure. But as someone said tonight, a couple of days ago the body was gone but the eyes were still there. Now, not even the eyes. Makes the sounds of the kids next door all the more painful. It's not their fault but it is as if their normality is just rubbing salt in the wounds.