A story of grief by a man and a boy
One of the many reasons I hate being a widower is that it’s just not me. Sometimes when I read back what I’ve written I get annoyed at what a miserable bastard I’ve become. I used to be all about having fun. My friends would tell you that I even used to refuse to go to bed after a night out just in case I missed out on any.
Well today’s a tough day but as I walked back from buying ‘big boy pants’ for my potty training child, an involuntary chuckle made its way past my lips. I was thinking ‘my kingdom for some Valium’ as I remembered taking some on Friday morning. I didn’t want to cry whilst I was out at Thomas Land with Jackson and I was determined to have some fun. Knowing how I’d felt for the last seven days I knew intervention was the only way forward (please do not try this at home kids).
Forgetting I’d taken it, I turned to my mother-in-law to ask her why she thought I was barely able to hold my green tea without nodding off. She laughed, reminded me I had sedated myself and handed me a king size Snickers for energy.
That just reminded me of the funniest thing I’d seen in ages. Exhausted from a day out riding the railways and surrounded by his favourite ‘steamies’, Jackson swapped the tracks for a taxi back to the station.
Just like his daddy, he was shattered but couldn’t bear to part himself from the party. Just like his daddy, he wanted to finish his refreshment but his eyelids were getting the better of him.
Never until that moment had I ever seen a child attempt to eat an ice cream while asleep. Never until that moment had I ever seen Jackson behave so much like me.
So for once, have a laugh on me…