Why am I doing this? - In the name of Thiago - Day 112
I’m going for a two-pronged attack with the title of today’s blog. Today I shall be writing about my son Thiago, who is the inspiration for this blog and my walk and my new found occasional belief that I can take on challenges that I once felt were beyond me.
And the other prong is something I learnt from a former work colleague: give something a ttitle which appears to show a degree of desperation and you’ll be surprised how many people want to read about your plight!
So now that I’ve managed to get you all to take the bait, I am delighted to inform you that I am perfectly ok, well as far as a man grieving for his son can be I guess. Last night was so strange, I started the evening in good shape and ended it in pieces as I got really frustrated that I couldn’t share one of my favourite Thiago videos with you all. I then ate too much even though my sadness had meant that I’d completely lost my appetite and cried a lot.
Today has been better in that I’ve started from a much calmer point. Angelica and I talked about our grief a lot and it made me realise that there are a lot of questions that I will never know the answer to and equally there are some, not many just some, that I’ll never want to know the answer to.
Why did it have to happen to Thiago when he was such an incredibly positive little boy? Could any more have been done? What is my life for if he’s not in it? Why do some people seem to think that my life might at some point get back to normality? Why wasn’t I with him when he went into cardiac arrest? Will anything I ever do from now to my death ever be enough to preserve his memory? How do I keep Angelica’s spirits up when the most precious thing imaginable has been cruelly taken away?
And what did I deduce? It was because my little man was so positive that he managed nearly ten months with a fucked up heart. Other choices could have been made but would the result have been the same? Almost certainly. Elisa and Angelica are my life now. Give them everything you can, you daft fucker.
As for other people. Well wankers will be wankers and there’s not much anyone can do about that, so I’ll focus on the things that are within my control. I wasn’t with him when he went into cardiac arrest because he gave me such confidence that he was always going to bounce back. I got a little blasé, gees I don’t know why. I just did. As for whether anything will ever be enough: I guess I’ll just do everything I can and hope that my efforts are remembered kindly.
And Angelica’s spirits. Aside from the pleasing increase in her consumption of mother’s ruin her spirits, like mine have been at a low ebb. But through talking about our grief today both inside the house and while we were out in the garden, we were able to be honest with each other and understand that though we are very different in the coping strategies we adopt – I’m still trying to work out what mine is other than existing – we are staying true to each other and that’s a great start.
So grief is a bitch, I get that, truly no getting away from the fact. Right now, it’s a double whammy with this virus, which is definitely starting to get on my tits. But this is where perspective is needed. There are a lot of people who really aren’t coping well with the impact of coronavirus. Despite the circumstances we are in as a society, I have still managed to have as many good days as bad days I reckon, to turn up for work every day for three and a bit months now and to tell my daughter I love her every day. Without fucking fail. Yes I do deserve some credit!
And speaking of deserving credit – gees I’m getting good at this now – you know what’s coming next. Help me in my mission to raise 10 bags of sand for the NHS please folks. You know it makes sense.