Yesterday, 364 days after the death of my husband, I woke up, dressed in black and tried to work out how to explain to my son what was happening today.  He knew, because I had been careful to tell him, that “Daddy has died” but in recent months, he has stopped watching the videos of him playing with his daddy, as he did endlessly in the early days. He no longer mentions Daddy at all.  I’ve often suspected he’s starting to forget, but it’s hard to tell.  So how to help him understand what is happening, without wanting to reopen memories that may be, mercifully for him, closing?

So today, I sat Adam down and tried to explain:  “Adam, you understand that Daddy has died right?”

“Daddy has died,” he repeated sadly.

“Well today, we’re doing something very important to say goodbye to Daddy, it’s called a funeral.”  (Technically it’s called an internment of ashes and the funeral was seven months ago, but I knew my limits and his.)  “This means, we will be going to a special garden, where we will see Big Brother George, Auntie Alison and Uncle Paul and we will be digging a hole in the ground, putting a box into it and saying goodbye to Daddy.”

I knew most of this would go over his head, but I had to try and autism demands literal explanations.  Adam though, understandably, looked blank so I tried again.

“Adam, do you remember your favourite story?  No Matter What? Love, like starlight never dies.”

“No Matter What!” He said excitedly and ran to grab the story.

So we sat on the sofa and read together, “Small, look at the stars, how they shine and glow, but some of those stars died a long time ago.  Still they shine in the evening skies, love like starlight, never dies.”   He looked at me expectantly as I struggled to work out what was too little and what was too much.  “Adam, Daddy died a long time ago, but when you look up at the stars, you could remember that his love for you never dies, just like the stars.  Today, we’re going to say a very special goodbye to Daddy.  Can you manage that?”

“Yeah, ok.” He said, his new favourite phrase.

It wasn’t perfect but it was the best I could do.

As we arrived at the crematorium a little while later, George and his mum, Tracey, came across the parking lot to us and she kindly, but perhaps mistakenly, asked how I was.  I dissolved into tears and bless her, she gave me a big hug.  (Just this once, don’t judge me on the COVID rules please).  George, looking a bit uncomfortable, quietly said hello and then walked around to the other side of the car where Adam was sitting.  There he stood, chatting and playing with his little brother for a while and the sound of Adam’s giggles was a joy.  Adam does adore George.

Eventually, all gathered, our small group of Rev’d Mary, Alison, Paul, Tracey, George, Adam and I walked over to the garden.  As interments always are, it was a short, simple service but Adam spent the whole time standing with his face buried in my chest and my arms around him – something he’s never done before.  So whether he was responding to my evident sadness and tears or understanding something of what was happening himself, I don’t know, but it was heartbreaking in it’s own way.

“Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, in sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life….”

“Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name….”

“May Almighty God bless you and all those whom you love….”

Once finished, Adam was very finished, and wanted to go immediately back to the car so rather than lingering, we said our goodbyes and left George and Tracey chatting with Alison and Paul, escaping home for some tea and tears with Mary.

But today, thinking he might cope a little bit better if we went on our own, I took Adam to the shop where he chose “PINK!!” Flowers for Daddy and we went back to the crematorium.  I looked at the stone and the tears flowed.  I can’t quite believe it’s been a whole year.  In a strange way, it seems both forever ago and also yesterday.  I also can’t quite believe that my 6’6” giant of a husband has been reduced to a small, heart shaped garden and a foot square marble memorial stone.

Rest in peace and rise in glory my love, and may you, as the picture on your stone shows, now have your legs returned to you and be wandering through the heavens with your dogs – because that would be your idea of paradise.