Sunday, 13 February 2011

His Face

The best thing about being back, is being able to sit on the couch and look up at Bear's photos. I stare at him and imagine kissing that face. All over. On the lips, on the nose. All over.
So here's the cliched bit. I think he's the most beautiful baby I've ever seen. I don't feel biased when I say that, although I must be. But I don't feel it, because his face has so much character. And wisdom. There is so much in his face. His whole life. And it seems so much longer than it was.
I like that. He's his own, perfect person.
And he's a totally, urtterly, beautiful example of a tiny, innocent, person.


  1. The thing that still hurts the most about losing our boy, nearly two years on, is the memory of how perfect he was.

    When he was born and I held him in my arms, I felt the same rush of love and recognition I had had for my daughter two years earlier. It made no difference that he was already dead. I remember looking at him and thinking, "I did it; I made this beautiful, perfect child." He looked so strong and healthy.