You have my whole heart. You always did. You’re the best guy. You always were.
― Cormac McCarthy, The Road
Today you said “Mummy, you are a very foolish Chicken”, then you presented me with today’s dram of magic. It was a picture of all of us together before the total destruction. There we all were perfectly preserved, on the page, on a pirate ship, with you in the Crow’s nest and you had even included Balthazar as a crew member. It was so beautiful. You drew pictures like this for months. On your birthday you said “Mum it’s really sad I’m the only kid in year one who doesn’t have a dad.”I feel terrible that you need to even consider these things.
But what a dad you did have. Just before he died he bought you some artist pencils all contained and wrapped in a beautiful piece of Italian linen. It was wrapped up in his T-shirts, he must have forgotten to give it to you but I do remember when he bought it for you. It was after you heard that Julia had gone to university. I told you that Julia wouldn’t be able to babysit for us anymore because she was going to a university called Cambridge where she was going to learn how to be a Doctor. You said “Is there one for people who want to be artists?” I told you that was Art School and you could go there if you worked really hard on your art; for the next few weeks you asked me daily- “How many more days until I get to go to Art School?” You have looked after those pencils so well, I’m so pleased.
A while ago we took you camping to Arundel Castle with a massive gang of friends, not long after Daddy died. It was posh camping really. There were yurts and bell tents and they provided us with a hearty stew and endless red wine upon arrival. I knew it would be good for you and Celeste and lots of fun; but mostly I knew this was what Daddy would want me to be doing instead of sitting at home and letting life pass me by. I promised your dad that I would continue as we had started and I wouldn’t waste a single second but this trip might have been a bit too much too soon. You seemed to sense this and as I was loading up the car you said- “Are you struggling Mum?” You had obviously heard this word from another conversation. I told you I was a little bit because there was an awful lot of packing to be done. To which you replied “I can help.” I said that that was very sweet of you but we needed to drive from there to a christening and I needed to choose a dress and they were all hanging up really high, too high for you to reach. So you told me to choose what dress I wanted to wear and the you would “just get a ladder.”
After the trip you and Alfie decided that you could handle all the loading of this stuff into the boot. It took you ages but you carried load after load on the trollies and loaded up the car. Someone heard you saying to Alfie “don’t pile it too high in the boot, otherwise my mum won’t be able to see through the window.”
I’m not sure how old you will be when you will stumble across this blog. Maybe they will have removed it from the internet by then because of all of the swear words and terrible analogies but once you do find it, I hope you will be proud that even at 6 you were able to perform miracles.
You can perform magic; you can heal with a single look. And you really make me laugh. In the car the other day Kanye West came on the car stereo system with ‘Last Call’ and you said ” I think it’s going to be a ‘No’ for him” Have you been watching X- Factor on the stairs again, instead of going to bed? Then you said “He sounds like a D.J., he’s okay but he’s definitely got a D.J. voice,” then you asked if he would be the D.J at your upcoming school disco in the Chiswick Catholic Centre Parish Hall. You carry my heart.
But I know a wizardry
Can take a wisp of sun-fire
And round it to a planet, and roll it through the skies,
With cities, and sea ports, and little shining windows,
And hedge-grows and gardens, and loving human eyes.