I miss you little man - In the name of Thiago - Day 118

I wasn’t sure what today’s blog was going to be until I left the house to go for my one a day about two hours ago now. Up until then I had thought it would just end up being a reflection of what has turned out to be a very positive day. I had three main tasks I had to get done and you know what I’d done the lot by half three so treated myself to an early finish. Lovely job, nicely done. Pleasure working with you.

And then I stupidly starting to talk to Angelica, (I need to be clear that speaking to Angelica in itself is not a stupid thing to do, although admittedly it does come laden with risk), while she was deeply ensconced in Pirates of the Caribbean, I started bemoaning the fact that I didn’t really have much in the way of images for my blog. So she reminded me why I’m doing this. Turns out it was a timely reminder.

Yep, here’s me and the little fella on one of our many sojourns to Birmingham Children’s Hospital, this would have been in the summer I guess. Look at the eyes, just makes me think of all the hearts he’ll never melt now with the charm and good looks that I know he would have been blessed with as he grew up.

I just know that the little fella would have tried his luck just as much if not more than I used to but would have also been blessed with the intelligence and deduction skills of his mum to enable him to get away with it more often than not. For that was always my biggest failing: bravado yes, sense of adventure yes but ability to cover tracks? A resounding no. There’s never a day goes by where I yearn to know what he might have been. You know what, I think he had it all. And I just miss him so much.

Look at them, my two beauties. Thiago always wore an expression on his face that said he was happy with his lot. As human beings, we persecute ourselves so much for what we haven’t done but very rarely give ourselves credit. I like to think that when my little man had a cardiac arrest two days before he died, that he did so because he already knew that he’d brought so much joy into the world. I like to think that as it brings me the smallest crumb of comfort.

And the impact that he had on others was utterly astonishing. About a month ago, I was having a chat on Messenger with a chap called Chris Jolley. Chris is a lovely bloke that works with Angelica at the hospital and I’ve got to know him a bit as he popped down to visit Thiago in Birmingham. He loved that little boy, because like me, he saw the joy in him.  

I mention this because Chris is organising a Royal Stoke Hospital Christmas bash at the NEC in Birmingham this year (fingers crossed eh). I told him that we couldn’t come if it was November 28 or December 17 – the days that Thiago died and was buried. He already knew.

And so here I am. Big ugly fucker ain’t I? And now here’s the uncanny part. Today I put on a T-shirt as I often have been doing in the six weeks we’re all been staying at home whether working or otherwise. But something, something just said stick that ridiculous stripey polo shirt on that the outlaws bought you last summer instead. So I did.

Now look back at the first picture in today’s blog. I guess I feel as close to him today as I have ever done. His spirit, his soaring soul, his charm, those gorgeous eyes. The very essence of my little man is as close to me today as it ever was and forever shall be. I love you Thiago and I miss you so much my darling boy.

Right you lot, before I go you surely cannot resist the urge to donate to my incredible cause and that is of course to raise £10,000 for the NHS, specifically Birmingham Children’s Hospital and Royal Stoke University Hospital.



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