Six years

A friend wrote an email to us yesterday, knowing that the 8th of December was only a couple of days away.

Yesterday, I 'saw' Ben as a vibrant, healthy young man (i.e. no cancer causing in his body) and felt surprised that he wasn't around, wasn't getting on with his life amongst us. It was as if I forgot momentarily that he had those 6 months or so with cancer in his body. Then I remembered and suddenly felt a surge of anger at what happened 6 years ago. It seems so incomprehensible, so senseless that Ben died at 23. Everything in me wants to scream out that it's wrong, it shouldn't have been that way.

From Meaghan's Private Collection

This is from Meaghan’s Private Collection and it echoes what the blog is about really—memories and reminders and reminiscing.

Carlton is a pocket of memories about Ben. Being in certain places is indistinguishable from remembering. It's good to be able to be in a place and feel that a memory is tangible. It's hard to give a memory shape so that someone else can hold it. But if you can, what a joy to share it! To hand it over and let someone else turn it over in their hands, then pop it into their pocket until they want to enjoy it again.

And from Cathy. (Please let us know if it’s not okay to post this-we couldn’t
find your address to ask your permission. Apologies.)

I first read this blog back in 2010, drawn to it by the saddest of reasons. I had lost my eldest son Chris at the age of 24 and connected deeply to the journey of Ben's family.

We too worry that our memories of Chris will become less sharp as the years go by. We try to mark the milestones like his 30th birthday and find joy as his friends marry and have children. Even though it is five long years since Chris died, the ‘constant presence of his absence’ remains.

Thank-you for continuing to share your stories. Maybe Ben and my Chris are even partying together

Wouldn't that be lovely?
Cathy

Twenty three short years.

Six long years on the 8th.