Belsize Park || Kate & Leo

☆ Sixteen ☆

Home. After a week away, the weight of grief feels a little lighter, but as we step through the doorway, exhaustion clings to us like a stubborn shadow. Ten hours sitting on a plane, and about an hour in your father's car, has stolen any energy I had. It's 8am here, but we're jet lagged, and thinking it's midnight. Bear slumps in Mia's arms, half asleep. I knew the jet lag would be the harshest on him, especially since he only slept for about 20 minutes. Your dad came to pick us up from the airport, and is staying with us for the day, and staying overnight.

I unlock the door, and swing it open, throwing my bag inside, and taking Bear out of Mia's arms. "I'll take him to bed." I start heading upstairs and Roger places a hand on my arm.

"Wake him up. He needs to sleep at normal time to get used to the timezone again." I look down to our son's peaceful face, his lashes resting against his supple cheeks and the hint of a smile at the cusp of his lips. My eyes soften. How can I wake him up? He looks so serene, so sleepy. I feel sorry to have to wake him, guilty even.

"Wait... let's let him nap for a few hours. He won't be able to stay up all day. He's already been awake for eighteen hours."

"Eighteen? Did he not sleep on the plane?" Roger asks, half raising his voice.

"Shh! No, he doesn't sleep well on planes, he never has."

So I carry Bear upstairs, feeling him stir in my arms. His sleepy smile tugs at my heartstrings as he murmurs, "Are we at home now, daddy?" I nod silently, the lump in my throat betraying the mix of emotions swirling inside me. "You can sleep now." I make my way to his cd player and hover my finger over the play button.

"No, I don't need her voice to sleep anymore." I blink at him, and he opens his eyes, softening them as I lower myself onto the end of his mattress, placing a hand on his leg. "I mean... I still love her voice but I can think it in my head now." My smile is soft, my eyes damp as his eyes flutter closed. "I'm proud of you, Beary. It's okay to hold onto her memories in your heart. And it's okay if it hurts sometimes too." I lean down and press a kiss to his forehead. "Goodnight, my sweet boy." Standing up, I switch the light off and swing the door closed. It doesn't click fully shut when his voice pricks my ears again.

"Daddy, does it hurt you?"

I think of your soft face, such an alabaster colour. When I kissed you that final time, parting your lips, I never imagined it'd be our last. When your monitor flatlined and they said there was nothing else they could do, when they announced your time of death at 5:55p.m, I never imagined how much it would haunt me. Every time I see that time on my clock, I shudder.

"Daddy?"

"Yes. But it's normal for it to hurt."

"But I never see you cry."

"Everyone deals with grief in different ways, and that's okay. Not everyone cries."

"But do you cry for mummy?" He asks, sitting up. I don't know how to answer to our seven year old that I do cry for you but it's not because you're dead, and not here. It's because I miss you being alive and well, next to me.

"I do. A lot."

"Why don't I see you? Do you cry when you go to bed?"

I nod, and lean my head on the doorframe. "I cry during the day too."

"I never knew adults cried. Did mummy cry?"

"Yes. Crying is very very normal. It can be a very good release.

"What did mummy cry about?" I shrug.

"Normal things."

"Like what?"