Good grief - In the name of Thiago - Day 150

Something of an oxymoron today’s blog title, I would say. My experience of grief is that it keeps rearing its ugly head and giving me a good solid size ten right in the nads. I can’t see how this can be good on any level. Certainly not for the old crown jewels, that’s for sure.

I kind of knew what to expect when I signed up to a Zoom meeting call for bereaved parents with my old sparring/grieving partner Gayle Routledge but I certainly wasn’t prepared for how much it was going to take out of me physically. I can quite honestly, with no word of exaggeration, describe myself as being emotionally spent. Yet again.

I’m actually pretty fed up of crying now. People always say to you ‘it’s good to let it out’ to which I often think but never actually say, ‘you wouldn’t be saying that if you had to let it out as fucking often as I do’! You have to though, that’s the thing. The call was for an hour and a half, so plenty long enough. I had to excuse myself eventually, because I needed to return to work but also because I’d run my metaphorical race. Nowt left in the tank today folks.

There were five of us on the call, which included Angelica and myself. I don’t wish to disclose too much information on here, as clearly this isn’t the right place to do that, but being in an environment with multiple grieving parents is a whole new dynamic.

It was a shame that the first time I saw Gayle was on a video call not in person, but this is the situation that’s been foisted upon all of us. All I would say to all those whingeing bastards out there fed up with the lockdown restrictions is just be grateful you’re not grieving as well. That’s a double fucking whammy if ever there was one.

There was another lady attending the virtual meeting today, who had lost her daughter even more recently than I lost my little hero. All I can say is that I hope some of the words Angelica and I offered her on the call gave her some strength for the journey ahead. We’re still so fucking raw ourselves but do still feel we can help.

I feel like a survivor. While this terrible thing has happened to me, in a bizarre way, as well as taking something away from me so obviously unfairly, I feel like I’ve also been given a second chance. A chance to not only do something with the second half of my life but also to show the world that Thiago’s tragically short life was not even close to being in vain.

Let’s face it, I wouldn’t be entertaining the idea of walking 300 sodding miles from Eastbourne to Stoke-on-Trent if it wasn’t for Thiago’s inspiration. He was only around for nine months yet look what he’s making me do!

Angelica went up to the cemetery to visit his grave after the meeting and tidied it up nicely. It will be nice to get a proper gravestone in there but that’s yet another thing that is taking forever due to the new world order. And so we continue..

This is the place to go to donate. Be generous if you can folks, but know that any donation is extremely gratefully received by me and Birmingham Children’s Hospital and Royal Stoke University Hospital, which collectively will use the funds to improve the prospects of some very poorly children.