Thomas

On Top of the Coffin

May 10, 2020

My husband Andy’s wooden rosary beads are descending into the grave on top of the tiny white coffin. And I want to shout, “Stop!” Grey clouds move in, turning off the weak

Faith·Grief

You

May 3, 2020

When Ellie said to me, “I suppose it’s too late to do anything about it,” I replied, “I don’t want to do anything about my baby.” No, I didn’t want to kill

Grief·Motherhood

Mother

April 15, 2020

I let my book drop from my hand to my lap: I’m too tired to read. Instead, I let my thoughts wander lazily around my mind. My eyes roam around the room.

Grief·Life

Fear

April 7, 2020

I feel so sad that people are dying alone,” I say to Imogen. “The coronavirus restrictions aren’t compassionate. Everyone deserves to have their loved ones with them when they’re dying.” I hope

Faith·Grief

One Day at a Time

March 5, 2016

I open my eyes, and I immediately realise that nothing has changed overnight. There is still a huge ache in my chest, and one all-consuming thought in my mind: Thomas. Although it

Faith·Grief·Motherhood

The Extraordinary Ordinary Things of Life

February 26, 2016

I’m at Thomas’ wake. I have his memory box on my knee, and I take out a few photos and pass them to a friend. “He was a chubby baby!” she exclaims.

Faith·Grief

Music, Funerals and Tears

February 14, 2016

From my diary: 19th March This morning at Mass, the first hymn was On Eagle’s Wings, which was the hymn we sang at Thomas’ funeral, as we processed to his burial site.

Faith·Grief

Feeling Crazy

January 30, 2016

Yesterday, we buried our baby. Today, I am kneeling on the ground beside my son’s grave, tears streaming down my face. I thrust aside the mountain of funeral flowers, and then I

Faith·Grief·Motherhood

My Starring Role

January 18, 2016

Years ago, I was Marcia Brady and I had two younger sisters, Jan and Cindy. It was the seventies and we were children and we all pretended we were Brady Bunch girls.

Grief

The Bath

January 9, 2016

Some years ago, we lived in a run-down old cottage in the middle of 100 acres of nothing: a few stunted trees, some low growing bush, hard-packed dry earth, a mob of

Grief

Ironing Away the Pain

July 17, 2014

“Are you okay?” she asks. “No, I am not!” My words whip her in the face, and it crumples as she takes two steps back from the ironing board. I don’t care.

Grief

An Exquisite Gown of Love

June 15, 2014

Our son Thomas was born. He died. And he had to be buried. And I thought about what I wanted him to be wearing when we laid him in his coffin. I

Grief

Not a Problem

April 15, 2014

Rocket grinned. She drooled a bit too. I opened the car door and she leapt in. She walked around in a circle and then settled herself on the back seat. The kids