The rising sun shone on the sand under my feet as I walked along under a Middle Eastern sky a few days ago. I used my toes to write your name - Ruairí. I wish that wasn’t how I found a moment just for you and me. I wish you had been running ahead of me along on that sand as I shouted to you that we’d wait until after breakfast to get in the water. You might have ran in anyway and got yourself and your nice clean clothes soaken wet, too excited to wait, too caught up in the fun of the water to hear my words. Or, you might have been more patient like your big brother is. I wish I knew how you’d be at eight years old. I wish I knew if you’d even like the ocean. I wish I didn’t have to imagine. Sometimes now, missing you feels softer - the edges of the ache in my heart don’t feel so sharp. And sometimes, the edges feel ever so sharp again.
“When nothing softens the grief, may the grief soften me” - Andrea Gibson
I miss you my sweet boy.
Your heart inside mine, always 💞
