Sally's World

Today is a painful day for me, 18 years ago today, I became a mum. Unfortunately Aaron isn't here for me to give a birthday hug, words can't express the ache I feel about that.

The last 3 years without Aaron have been the hardest I have ever had to face,I miss him more than I thought I was capable of. But I am still celebrating in his honour in my own quiet way.

I don't regret a minute, Aaron is responsible for the person I am today and for that, I am eternally grateful.

I know wherever he is, he'll be having cake!

The sad loss of David Cameron’s six year old son Ivan has been all over the news and papers since he passed away on Wednesday morning. When I hear something like this I just feel sick, panicky almost. And I guess it’s just because I know what the family has to go through.

Before Aaron passed away, I was always saddened on hearing of someone passing, especially when that person was a child, but I know I didn’t feel it as deeply as I do now.

When Aaron passed away, we were touched, and even surprised by the amount of support we had, and support from strangers too, friends of friends, or people we hardly knew. So many people who had also experienced losing a child were offering their support. It moved us beyond words.

It all makes sense to me now. As a parent who has lost a child, I feel the pain of parents like David and Samantha Cameron. I want to reach out and say something to ease their pain, which is even more bizarre in a way, because, I know for a fact that nothing anyone says at the moment will ease that pain.

I guess all I know is, that although losing a child is the hardest thing they will ever have to go through in their entire lives, it is something they can survive, even though it may not seem like it now. And no, time will not heal, but it will bring them acceptance. They have to accept that their lives will be different, and that their time with their son no less precious just because he is not physically with them now.

I know their will be some feelings of guilt at whether they did enough, gave their son a happy enough life, some anger at the loss, anger that everything else, and everyone else seems to be carrying on a normal life, and certainly some numbness at times, because I think that’s how the body copes, you can’t possibly feel it all at once, because your heart and mind could never take it.

They are now also realising that their loss is a very physical pain, that is something I never knew before, I never knew that the pain in your heart is real, tangible, I always imagined that it was an emotional pain only.

What they will learn with time though, is that their lives have to carry on and grow around the memory of their son. For a long time I felt that in letting go of all the grief and the anger, I was somehow letting go of Aaron. But I know that would be making him crazy as he watched me struggle with that. So all the love and memory, all the special stuff, is all there, life has just grown around it making it less of a focus for us all. I will miss Aaron every minute of every day, I will ache for him at times, I will cry and rant at times too. But I would never go back and change a minute; I can never regret the amazing adventure of our lives together. David, Samantha and their children too will realise this in time, and I hope they get there soon. But grief is not something you can time, or put conditions on, there are no rules, no rights and wrongs.

I have no regrets, and I'm sure Aaron is as proud of us as we are of him. I hope the Camerons' feel the same.

Sleep tight little angel, god bless!

I just wanted to say thank you to everyone for the lovely e-mails and messages you sent for us all on Friday. Your words were a great comfort to us all. Aaron must be thrilled to know he is widely remembered, sorely missed and touching the hearts of new people all over the world every day. He would expect nothing less of course!

Sal xxxx

I'm quite glad the last couple of blogs have been more light hearted in nature, because this one isn't.

Since we've started these blogs I've been getting e-mails asking me about that moment when we knew we'd lost Aaron. And although I've generally been applying these blogs to the e-mails I've been recieving, this is a subject I seem to have avoided. So today I decided to bite the bullet and insert the passage out of Aaron's book which describes that moment.This isn't one for the light hearted among us, so it's completely your choice whether to read on or not.

Sal x

“I was in a perfectly good mood as I walked into Aaron’s room to get my morning cuddle; I was still humming the Postman Pat theme tune that was stuck in my head thanks to Aaron’s three o’clock viewing programming. Aaron was laying on his front asleep, I didn’t think too much of it except to say that he never normally slept on his front, I asked him what he was doing and I rolled him over.

This is an image that will be ingrained in my heart and mind for the rest of my life, Aaron was pale and his breathing shallow, he tried to look at me but he couldn’t seem to open his eyelids properly. I screamed for Dave and screamed for the phone, I dialled 999, I looked at Dave and I could see the fear in his eyes.

The lady on the end of the phone was talking to me, telling me how to do CPR, I was breathing into Aarons mouth for two breaths, then fifteen compressions on his chest, breathe again, fifteen more compressions, it could only have been two minutes but it felt like a lifetime. I thought I could feel a pulse, but it was really weak.

The ambulance people burst in and took over, they put him on the floor and were working on him. We were helpless, staying out of the way because we couldn’t do anything, they were attaching pads to his chest to shock him, they tried to intubate him but couldn’t get the tube down. It was mad, all the equipment, all the bleeping, we were all crying and telling Aaron how much we loved him, how he could do it, he was strong, not to leave us. Somewhere in the middle of it, Dave rang his brother John to come to watch the kids so we could go to the hospital.

The ambulance man picked Aaron up and carried him to the ambulance; I just numbly followed them out, because above all else, I knew that I had to be with him. They were pumping his chest and breathing for him all the way to the hospital. I think I was in a daze by then, this wasn’t real, this wasn’t what Aaron did, he was playing, he’d wake up any minute now, he just wanted a cool ride with the lights flashing.

When we got to the hospital, the back doors were flung open and we all leapt out, then they swung the stretcher and Aaron out and we all hit the pavement running.

We burst into the hospital to a waiting team of doctors, they wanted me to go to a room with a nurse, “No,” I shouted, and they knew I meant it. The doctors were shocking Aarons heart, giving him adrenalin, they were asking about time, I could do nothing but watch them try and save him, where was Dave?, I needed Dave.

Dave walked into the room and I saw Robyn walking behind him, he was saying she wouldn’t let him leave the house without her, she was like that, she had even packed Aaron a little bag, bless her heart. The nurse led Robyn away and I just collapsed in Dave’s arms, the doctors were saying there was nothing more they could do, I could hear someone screaming “NO, NO,” over and over again, then I realised that it was me!

The doctors and nurses all moved away from the bed, I grabbed Aaron and gathered him up in my arms, this couldn’t be right, he just looked like he was sleeping soundly, he was still warm, surely this wasn’t it. How was I ever going to have the strength to let him go? I just clung on to him, Dave one side, me the other, both sobbing, both feeling as helpless as each other, it was just way too awful to contemplate.

The doctors were talking, they needed to take some of Aaron’s blood and urine to help them see exactly what had happened, we said o.k. I gently laid Aaron on the bed and let them put their arms round me to guide me away from him. Then we were led off into a little room, where the nurse was already sitting with Robyn. Robyn stared at me, eyes wide, shaking her head ‘no,’ I sat down and hugged her tight, and she started screaming too. How on earth do you explain this to children, it is harder than you could ever imagine. I kept telling her what a brilliant sister she was; Aaron couldn’t have wished for a better sister.

Dave Rang John and told him to bring the children, they had to say goodbye to their big brother; we knew John would need to see him too. I think then we all just sat there in a state of shock. As we walked out of that room to go back to Aaron, John walked in to the hospital, I threw myself at him, and he was sobbing too, what would we all do without Aaron?

The kid’s looked so little and lost standing there, they had tears running down their faces, us and John too, and I hadn’t a clue what to say. Jordan just kept saying over and over how “he can’t be gone” he kept repeating how he’d only been reading a book to him the day before and couldn’t quite let it all sink in, he wasn’t the only one. Deion looked so little so frightened.”

A couple of people have asked me on earth they are supposed to deal with losing their child. Two were mothers who's children have recently passed away, four were mothers who have children with terminal illnesses.

Well, the truth is, you don't, not all the time. There are no rules about how you react, what you need to do to get through it and there are certainly no time limits. The most overused saying of all time has to be 'time heals everything'. Not true, time just brings acceptance.

After Aaron passed away, I went into denial for a long time, I'd pretend he was at school and he was coming home, I think my heart would have broken if I knew that I would never see him again. So your brain lets little bits in at a time I think, and with time passing, all that happens is that you cannot avoid the inevitable truth.

What I had to do was learn to think differently, I had to realise that I would see Aaron again one day, just not here on earth, and I had to realise that as a child that was part of me, he will always be a part of me. I carry him with me in my heart wherever I go. He was the person who made me who I am today, so how can he not be with me every step I take.

So, no, for me, time hasn't healed and I can't imagine it ever will, I will feel the loss every day for the rest of my life. But it is also that sense of loss that keeps me strong and determined. What I have realised, is that I have had to learn to live with it, accept that I'll have a different life now, but also be grateful that its the life Aaron shaped for me.

You know we never really have to say goodbye, we just carry our child differently to the way we know, and are used to. And we have to realise they are watching over us and will be waiting for us when its our time to go.

So my advice would be; for those who still have their children, live life while you can, appreciate and cherish every moment, make it count. And for those who have lost their children, hang on to your memories and the love you feel, no-one can take those things away. There's no time for regret and recrimination, think of what your child would want for you. I know Aaron would want us happy and laughing...or up to some sort of mischief!

But you do have to find your own way to cope, and sadly no-one can tell you what that is. My way of coping is in all the things I do every day to pass on a legacy for Aaron. I have three children to raise into adulthood, three children looking to me for guidance on how to cope, and I need to set an example for them, create something possitive for them to hang on to. Because, I certianly wasn't the only person who lost Aaron, he is missed by hundreds of people.

We all just shre one common thing, we are all grateful we knew him.

Take care

Sally and Aaron xxxx