I have heard from two parents today: one, H, whose son was diagnosed only 10 days ago.

For both, and for me and us, the lasting through is so hard. The holding-up. The way your life is shipwrecked. And you have to wander around, slowly re-collected, gathering up, all the pieces, new and old.

I find myself being in the position of old hand. 18 months in. Like in grief, you watch yourself move further away from that moment of change, that time of unremitting despair and numbing hard work.

I guess all I want to say is that it’s not that I don’t remember before diagnosis – it’s that I can’t, without the same crush of sadness as I felt at the start. So I don’t take myself there often.

So in that sense, um, I guess I’m not much help. Sorry.

But in every other sense: we help each other. Our children will grow up strong and healthy. Burdened – yes- but like us, with a deep understanding of what’s important.

They didn’t need this. Nor did we. Nor did our families.

Damn.

Thank goodness for small mercies. Friendship of a whole new type, to a whole new degree. Even in passing it means something real.

Hang in there, all of us.

– Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Location:Tile Kiln Hill,,United Kingdom

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