Every now and then I think of my mate – Geoff. I think of his wife, Marie. My heart breaks.
Tonight I’ve spent the evening out with Michael. We’ve had a good time.
Before we left my 21 year old son, Tomas, wasn’t home. That’s a bit odd. Caitlin my 23 year old daughter didn’t know where he was. I don’t worry. At least, I think I’m not worrying.
That’s until I get home some 5 hours later to see his bedroom door is closed. Caitlin’s bedroom door is also closed. That means that no matter what has transpired today – both of them are home and in bed. It’s only then that I realise that the closed doors offer me comfort and remind me that my children are safe. It’s then that I realise that I worry.
To lose a child would be devastating. Every time that thought cross my mind, I think of my mates, Geoff and Marie. Because they lost their two children in a road accident 10 years ago.
Their pain is my nightmare – but I’ve not spent 10 years living it. I’ve not spent 10 years seeing the open bedroom doors.
A flash of memories of Kate and Daryl is all I have. Quiet words said at the funeral.
My words will never describe the deep sense of loss.
I see it in myself, I can feel the despair. It will pass for me because the bedroom doors are closed.