Guest Author - Neville Sexton
Father’s day 2009 is a very different one for me. It is the first Father’s day since my beautiful Craig passed from this world, where I’ve been able to hold a child of mine in my arms again. I woke up and held, hugged and kissed my beautiful little baby Dean and felt so thankful for him: the smell of him; the sounds of him; the beauty of him. As with every other day of celebration it is one where conflicting emotions coalesce to bring about a curious feeling that is neither all joyous nor entirely forlorn. It was a new kind of Father’s Day.
As always, the mind sways between the past and the present and leaves you feeling somewhat confused and uncertain. There is joy to be had, love to be felt and so much to be thankful for, but yet your bounty can never satisfy. Forever, the spectre of all that was and should still be clouds your thoughts and smothers you. The light is not so bright; the warmth of a summer’s day still holds a chill; and the emptiness within creeks and echoes with the ghosts of painful reminiscence. This is the dark shadow cast after losing a child – the silhouette of the dearly departed.
But I suppose life can still bloom in the shade. I know that now. It may be a colder place and it may be lonelier, but the blossoming of life here is every bit as precious, wonderful and breathtaking to behold as that which flourished in the open. When Dean came into our world he brought with him a gift – the gift of hope and of being able to live again. He bloomed within the darkness of our lives and began to pull the light back in. He has been a miracle in our lives. His presence alone has provided a tailored salve for our pain. We love him so dearly and thank the heavens that we can. What he gives to us we cannot hope to ever return in full. For his is an immeasurable thing that flows and flows and breathes life into us; a divine zephyr.
I woke this morning and kissed my boy and thanked him for being him; for being here. Later that evening I stood at my son’s grave and kissed his picture. I whispered into the face that stared back and thanked him for being him, for having been here, and for showing me that there is more to come. I came back and wrote this article – The proudest Father in the world.
