Cranking it up a notch - In the name of Thiago - Day 216

 

No matter how positive I want to be – and believe me I’m trying pretty fucking hard – the pain I feel for the loss of my son really is all consuming. Just five minutes ago, I wasn’t going to be writing the blog that I’m now going to end up writing, but this is the space that I’m in and I’ve always been honest with you folks. There is nothing to hide, because well there’s nothing left to hide. It’s all out there.

 

It just hit me like a fucking freight train today when I saw a photo of him I’d either not seen for a very long time or had forgotten ever existed. Friends today have been upping the ante. Tibbals is resurrecting ‘naked Fridays’ and friends like Liz are talking with amazing candidness about what Thiago meant to them. That really means a hell of a lot to me.

 

 

Look at the little hero. Every single photo I see of him cuts me up and makes me proud in the same moment. Thiago was a poorly boy – there’s no getting away from that simple truth. Yet he was astonishingly positive in his short life and thanks to his incredible attitude, I have many, many wonderful memories, which no-one will ever be able to take away from me.

 

There existed in him a certain fragility. If you look into his eyes in this picture he seems to be saying, I know I’m poorly, life is hard but there is no way on this earth that I am going to let on to mum and dad just how I feel, because I don’t want them to worry about me. Thiago went into cardiac arrest two days before he died, and I know for a moment he was scared. It hurts me that I wasn’t there. When I saw him next, he was asleep. He never woke up. To this day I think that he checked out without any fuss because he didn’t want to worry his mum and dad. He was such a brave little lad.



 

Fuck me this is ruining a few Friday nights I’ll bet. I hadn’t intended to play the role of mood hoover tonight honest, sorry! The day started quite well in fact. The builders turned up at half seven and rather than do my usual thing of set up the work laptop, connect to the server and try and have a half-hearted breakfast as the day took shape, I said bollocks to that and instead sat in the garden with Angélica and enjoyed the sunshine.

 

We just talked like couples should do but rarely do as loads of shit that doesn’t actually matter gets in the way. It was quite lovely, and it was with a great deal of reluctance that I gave in to the inevitable at 8.45 to start the working day. This is one good thing about the state of play we live in at the moment though. I’d never have been able to do that before, as I’d have been driving in at that time.  

 

I’m going to end on snooker today. I’ve been watching snooker since 1984 when Steve Davis came from a different postcode to beat the much-loved perennial loser Jimmy White in the World Championship final. Watching the snooker on the TV is fine. And now I find that watching it on the TV when there are no spectators is even better.

 

 

I’ve been to watch snooker live on a couple of occasions. It was utter shit. You can’t see a thing once you’re a few rows back. I know I’m not exactly God’s gift to the human race but fuck me there were some desperate people watching in Preston and Telford. And why oh why, do you need headphones with commentary, when you’re watching the fucking game in the first place? Watch it at home for Christ’s sake!

 

I watched the snooker today for a few minutes and it was so good to see no-one there. The spectators bring absolutely nothing to the occasion and like me should be at home watching it on the telly. Right that’s me done, rant over. I might sink a few more beers now, which is probably not what I should be doing in my slightly fragile state, but fuck it, it’s Friday. Keep the donations and the social media shares coming folks. It means so much to me and I love you all for everything you’re doing to help me get to my £10,000 target. Much love.



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