The day my Milo passed is the worst of my life. We got to spend his final day holding him which is the only highlight.
As I looked into his face I knew he was going to go soon. I told him to let go. He twitched twice more and then was still.
The pain seared my heart. I felt like a thousand knives were stabbing me all over my body. The tears didn’t come straight away. It was only when I started making phone calls to tell family that they began. I couldn’t sit still so I paced both holding my son’s body and while his dad held him. If I was still I knew the waves of hurt would take me and I didn’t know how I would resurface.
I held onto him for as long as I could. I never wanted to let him go but I could feel his body changing and that was a memory I didn’t want. As the staff took him away I looked at his foot. The whole foot was going purple apart from one toe that must have been bent against me. That caused me more pain as it was something I caused him, granted he couldn’t feel it but that odd toe was my fault.
In visual terms those early days were red with pain.