A hard hat, the Playmobile years and stuff…

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I found a Playmobile hard hat yesterday clearing out the rubbish under my desk. Reminding me of the Playmobile years (a good 16 of ’em) and LB’s fascination with emergency services.

Earlier I got this reminder on my ipad.

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I did the slide thing. There was no more.

LB’s birthday. 22 tomorrow.

The pain remains unimaginable. It becomes a bit easier to kind of cover it with layers upon layers of stuff across years. But the stuff remains wobbly and unstable. Sort of useless covering. At the same time, necessary.

You can’t extinguish the pain of a child dying. You have to get on with stuff…

We’ve marked LB’s birthday in random, kind of ‘brilliant’ ways… The first year, an organised and collective celebration at the Long Hanborough bus museum. Year two, Rosie, Owen and I went to the Tower of London. Marking a previous birthday celebration. We caught the final days of the poppy exhibition and grazed the Tower shop. Stocking up on London bus related Crimmy decorations. Tentative steps towards recognising Christmas could happen again.

Last year, viewing the #JusticeforLB quilt at Mansfield College and nosh in Oxford.

Tomorrow we’re getting on with stuff. Rosie is in Vietnam with mates. William and Owen at university. Tom at school. Rich teaching.

I’m working at home. The Sooty tears need space. Though not the space I might have imagined. Back in the darkest of days.

The wooden chest of LB treasures in our bedroom will remain closed. I opened it up for a few moments while packing for the #CaminoLB a few weeks ago. Looking for LB’s pouch of mermaid shells. The briefest glimpse and smell of the preciousness of LB’s life stuff, so carefully packed in those long, hot summer weeks after his death, was like having my heart freshly ripped out [and tossed to a pack of vicious, snarling, loosely chained, NHS guard dogs].

LB was beyond loved. He had an incredibly inquisitive and searching mind. Effortlessly unusual, determined, hilarious and loving. A razor sharp capacity for knowing right from wrong. For calling out injustice. He had a heart the size of a fucking super moon. And smile and laughter that could light up the darkest of dark times. I miss him.

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One thought on “A hard hat, the Playmobile years and stuff…

  1. He had a great mother, who didn’t hide his memory. She set up a website to show him off to the world and celebrates him every day of her life – if only he knew. Where even other parents have a voice.

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