Monday, 18 July 2011

Time away, time near our boy

Things are quite fuzzy at the moment. The last few weeks have felt heavy and complicated, so we decided to do something positive and leave London for the weekend. We went to Suffolk, to stay at our family home. It's where Bear's ashes are buried, it's where his tree is growing.
I've had this deep, yearning need to go and lie by the tree recently. I want to be near him and see how his energy is helping the tree grow and thrive.
So we left on Friday and the first thing we did when we arrived was go and hug that damn tree. It was dark but it didn't matter. We used a torch to look at all the fresh, baby leaves growing at the ends of the branches. These little leaves made me feel good. They let me know that the tree is happy there, and that is so comforting. The last thing we need is for the tree to die too.
I wanted to cry and cry and throw myself on the ground. But I held it together. I held it together for Toby, I don't know why, I just thought he didn't need me being all hysterical at the end of a long drive.
I think he was holding it together for me too. We were both quiet and as much as it felt good, the journey to see the tree felt incredibly sad.
The next morning, we went and saw it in the intermittent sunshine. It still felt heavy. I think it will feel heavy for a long time. But at least we know that Bear is there with us and not in some big scary cemetery, which we visit less and less often. I will never have guilt, because I know he is nearby. But then, there's no escaping the sadness of having your first born buried in the garden.
Overall the weekend was positive. We cleared our heads. We talked and talked and hugged and were just chilled in our own bubble. Toby really is the most wonderful man and I love him to bits. Despite all of this sadness, he can make me laugh and make me feel warm and that is no mean feat.
There is something incredibly reassuring about being with the man who knows everything I've felt and everything I feel today. We don't need to make explanations to each other, we just are, we just know, and that is wonderful.
We sat and watched old movies and cooked very expensive pasta for dinner. All the time, we looked at Bear's tree out of the window. It is planted so that we can even see if from our bed. On Sunday morning, once we'd opened the blinds, it almost, almost felt as though the three of us were there together.


  1. Sounds lovely, and sad, and lovely. I know exactly what you mean when you say you never escape the sadness of having to bury your firstborn. In my case, we scattered his ashes over a lake near our family holiday home. But the sentiment is the same. It's not something that any of us should ever have had to do. I only wish we lived closer to that family home so we could visit more often.

  2. How true your words. My husband and I scattered our daughter Ella's ashes in Suffolk on the river Deben (where my family home is) and also on the river Nile in Uganda where we now live. It's here that we planted a flamboyant tree in her memory and we remain in constant awe at how beautiful and huge it has grown. May Bear's tree stand tall, proud and regal as he overlooks his world from above. X

  3. Great tree news! I honestly wouldn't label myself a tree-hugger, but I do love big proper trees - I am strangely drawn to their solidity and strength. I do absolutely understand how Bear's tree will continue to bring you (some) comfort as it grows over the years.

    Not by a computer on Friday, so wanted to post today and just say that I will be thinking of you, Bear and your hubbie on Friday as 29th comes hurtling round again. xxxxx