By Raymond Sloan
He used to run up to me and clamp his little arms around the top of my leg. Squeeze my neck on his birthdays, at Christmas. Grapple me before I left after his bedtime stories.
As the years passed, our embraces only emerged in times of great celebration or in the bleak consequence of a close death. In them I would cling to him, selfishly rejoicing. Seizing our moment together.
Today, I will wrap my arms around him one final time, before they close the box, before I watch him depart from me, into the mouth of the cold December soil.
I found this especially poignant, as my eldest daughter used to do this – run up and clasp her arms around my legs so I couldn’t move without unpeeling them. Even now, when she’s hale and hearty and the mother of twins, I regret that unpeeling.
You’ve neatly encapsulated every parent’s worst nightmare.
This is quite lovely. The melancholy of an empty nest pales in comparison.
Beautifully written and I hope you haven’t had to experience this. Very sad.
Tender moments well captured. Children are so special and their deaths are the deepest wounds.
Very sentimental and poignant. The pain felt more acutely by those who have lived (and died) through it.
A difficult read. Incredibly well written piece that describes a truly heartbreaking moment.