So much to do.
Having been away a week, I have a bunch of ironing to do.
Tons of emails and follow ups about the Fair which… Oh my God, is coming up soon. September 18 is… less than two months away.
And, if anyone is listening, we are still looking for donations of yoga mats and a sponsor for the
t-shirts – Thank you
Poor Bruno, the book somehow always ends up at the bottom of the list.
I often start the day telling myself that I will write first and move on to other things, only after I’ve written at least five pages of the book.
I think the secret is not to give in to the temptation of having a “quick” look at emails that arrived overnight.
Another thing on the calendar is the SIDS Ball that I started thirteen years ago. This year it will be on October 28. Dressed in a Tux, Andrew had been coming to the ball ever since he was nine years-old. He and his sister, Florentina, wouldn’t miss it for the world. Then, when Robert was old enough, he too came with us every year.
I remember when they were little, while the grown ups drank wine, they drank Shirley Temples.
At last year’s ball, on October 22, I had no idea that like a bomb, the clock was ticking. There were only eleven days left to Andrew’s life and the world as we knew it.
After the night of the ball, I saw Andrew alive one more time.
After that… the hospital… the coffin…
Suddenly I am not feeling very well, my throat hurts and I feel as though I have a fever. I hope I don’t have the nasty bug that got my friend Elizabeth tied to her bed for several days.
Also, we are going to Italy at the end of the month. My family has been wanting us to go ever since Andrew died. My sweet Uncle bought us all tickets to Sicily.
I am looking forward to it, I am looking forward to seeing my mother, my brothers, my Aunt and Uncle, and friends.
But… what about Andrew?
But as Doctor Weng said:
“Don’t go there. Sing your sadness out. Tell yourself: Being sad does not help my son.”
I have to let Andrew go, I cannot hold on to him. In this world or the next, there comes a time when we have to let our children go. But it is so hard, oh Lord, it is so hard.
I love you Tigs
IF YOU ARE FEELING SUICIDAL OR NEED TO TALK CALL THE NATIONAL LIFELINE