No parent should have to think of their children associated with death. No parent should have to “visit” their child at the cemetery. No parent should have to wake up every day knowing there is one less sing-song good morning heard. Yet here we are. Here are thousands of parents throughout the world missing their child taken too soon.
August 8th has come and gone, and it was still difficult to navigate. This year marks 8 years without Madox in our lives. Almost as long as he was alive, which is very heavy to think about. Instead of just another regular day, August 8 now means visits to the cemetery plot, fighting back tears, and thinking of what could have been. So many missed milestones and memories that we were robbed of. I use to get angry, and argue with the world that Madox shouldn’t have been taken. Like every parent, I would ask why it wasn’t me instead. Silence back. Just me, my thoughts, my anger, my sadness.
Over the years, the anger is still present, but softened. Now I sit by his plot, and talk to him. Sing songs we use to sing together. And softly cry for the person I never had a chance to meet. I ask out loud what music he would be into. What his favourite food would be. Who he liked or would be dating. In return is silence. Always only silence.
Children that are fighting or lost the battle against DIPG.
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