Looking back is not always easy to do – especially when you’ve lost a child. Earlier in the week I had cause to look for a particular picture, which meant I had to look through a drawer with photo albums and what not. I found the picture I was looking for but I didn’t stop there. As I opened the large photo album I found myself getting sucked into its world and being transported to the warmth and bitter cold of better times.

I think it’s fair to say that when most people look through photo albums they do so with a mixture of emotions. It’s usually a peculiar blend of joy and happiness but also a hint of sorrow as somewhere deep inside you grieve for your past and those wonderful days gone by. But mostly it is joy, the latter being almost a subconscious afterthought. That is normal and a fair assessment I would imagine. But for the parent, like myself, who has lost their child, looking back on those times when you were a full family evokes only extreme emotions. The joy you feel is always fleeting as hot on its tail comes always this cascade of sorrow and grief.

I looked through hundreds of photos and as I did so my stomach began to seethe and swirl as raw emotions spilled from my eyes. Many of the photos made me laugh, but always through streams of tears. All those wonderful memories were laced with such overbearing sadness that the happiness drawn from what was, was drowned instantly by the bitter truth of what is, and what can never be. It’s such a cruelty to have even your beautiful memories, all that you now have left, destroyed by this relentless unwavering torment.

It sometimes seems that grief is the thief of everything: what was, what is and what’s to come. But I don’t think it is. I know that flicking through those photos was a painful experience. But afterwards I found myself reflecting on what I’d seen. I began to recall so many wonderful memories that were previously buried in my unconscious thoughts. I drove somewhere, don’t ask me where, and particular memories popped into my head form seemingly nowhere. I smiled. It was as if Craig had come alive in my heart again. The good memories were starting to push to the front and the tiniest embers of warmth began to glow a little stronger against the darkness that sorrow provided.

So now I’ve come to the conclusion that I cannot, will not, let this sorrow smother the fire that is Craig’s light. In truth it simply can never happen. The bond of love that tethers a parent to their child is unbreakable. Nothing, not even death itself, can touch it. Perhaps it actually strengthens it.

So I’ll finish by saying one last thing. Always, always, always remember your child with the joy that they gave you in their life. It was their gift to you. Do not waste it.