The pain is raw - In the name of Thiago - Day 227
I went to a grief counselling session yesterday. It was hosted by big Kev – who is an actual grief counsellor – and he also invited Adrian, who like me lost a child. Many of you will already know that if you read yesterday’s blog. The reason for mentioning this again though, is because I left the session feeling pretty proud with myself for how I was doing. And I say it again, I am doing really bloody well.
A visit to the cemetery though just completely destroys me every single fucking time. It’s horrible, just horrible. It was actually the first time I went by myself. I’ve never said this to Angélica but I was really scared of going on my own. What would I be scared of you might reasonably ask? The answer is it’s simply the ferocity of the sadness as it hits me. It’s a horrible thing to do on your own if it makes you feel that way. And this is half the problem – grief doesn’t operate under a series of operating procedures. At least I know what my triggers are now I suppose. It’s a fairly bleeding obvious one I suppose.
But it’s not the only one. Another trigger I get, is simply hearing his name. If my son’s name was John, Mark or Michael I’d have grown used to hearing it all the time by now. But oddly enough you don’t get to hear of many Thiagos in north Staffordshire. In fact, I’ve just had to turn off the football on the radio. And all because Paris St Germain have Thiago Silva the Brazilian captain in their ranks. If Paris St Germain meet Bayern Munich in the Champions league final, there would probably be two Thiagos in it, with Thiago Alcântara do Nascimento playing for the Germans.
While I was at Thiago’s graveside there were some cemetery maintenance staff working and one of them was kind enough to give the borders of my son’s grave a nice trim. I did a bit of weeding and tried to keep my little man looking nice and smart. I did what I could. Angélica and I are going to see the man who is making Thiago’s headstone on Friday. We shall give him the inscription and hopefully it won’t be much longer now before we have a more permanent memorial marking the resting place of our little man.
After the cemetery visit, I nipped into town to get the bag I’ll be using for my walk. I’m going to load it up in the morning and walk with it on my back for a bit if I can tomorrow. Physically, I’m in much better shape now and I’m giving myself a pat on the back for that. I’ve walked a long way in this last four days and now I know, if I didn’t already, that I’ve definitely got this covered now.
So as a treat, I went for lunch with my two ladies. It was really lovely and I couldn’t help thinking how grown up Elisa is getting now. After the morning I’d had though, I just kept looking at the empty seat next to Elisa thinking what a massive pile of fucking bollocks it all is. It was nice to be with the girls, but I was on edge a little. So, it was a good thing that immediately afterwards I had a yoga session in Longton Park.
That did me an incredible amount of good I must say and after that session I simply packed up my stuff and walked the six and a half miles home.
Here she is, my wonderful wife of 15 years, looking as bright and full of life as she did when we first met in 2004. I truly have no idea how she does it. Angélica has been so supportive towards me in these last few days. I found out yesterday that when a child dies, 78% of relationships fail. I thank my lucky stars that Angélica and I have such an incredibly strong marriage. Without her in my life, days like today would cause me so much more damage. Come tomorrow though, I’ll have simply moved on to the next one and that’s my approach these days. I am a survivor.
Before I move on to the next one, I just need to point you in the direction of my fundraiser. We’re up to £8,400 now so that is a brilliant achievement, I am so pleased with that but there’s still work to do. Please help me reach my £10,000 target.