Post by Prints le Some on May 3, 2008 6:40:51 GMT
"Come on kids" the driver of the new green bus called as I and my new wife stepped up onto the platform. We were leaving our new house on the new estate to go into town so my wife could have a check up at the hospital. She was six months pregnant with our baby and everything to us was bright and new. We traveled on the same green bus with the same driver into town two or three times a week till our baby was born. After that we, our family, would board the bus, my wife would take our son and I would put the push chair in the storage area under the stairs. Life was good, we were so happy, not too much money but lots of love. My wife and I would sit for hours with our little boy, talking to him, telling him about our plans and the life we three were going to have. His little face would turn from one of us to the other as we spoke and we were sure he understood every word.
We were so close, we did not have many friends, because we had everything inside our family, but those few we did have were not as tight a family as us. They argued, they had lives outside their home, not us, we were everything to each other.
One night the noise of our little boy coughing woke us up. The cough got worse. The next day we took him to the doctors. The day after that he was admitted to hospital. We sat with him all the time as his condition first stabilized then started to get worse. Late one Thursday afternoon the doctors advised us to go home and get some rest, he will not get worse during the night they said, and my wife was beginning to get ill herself so we went home to spend a night in bed together for the first time in many days. The next morning we boarded the new green bus. The driver asked about our little boy and how we were, then wished us well. At the hospital we were asked to wait till the ward sister came down to see us. Our little boy had died at 2 am that morning.
My wife and I would board the green bus two or three times a week to go and sit with our little boy as he lay beneath his cold grey stone. We would tell him about our days and the plans we could have kept if he had been with us. The places we could have seen and the things we could have done. We felt that being with him could still keep us close as a family. We spent many years together as a family, each year as another birthday for each of us passed my wife and I got older and we pictured our little boy doing the same.
After the shock of his death passed we were happy to spend our lives this way. My wife, myself and our little boy.
We did not make any new friends and the old ones drifted away. My wife was all I needed and to talk to our little boy.
Our lives were even happy after many years together. At home we would try to imagine our little boy was up stairs or out in the garden. Others would have thought we were mad but for us it made the loss bearable.
"Come on old timer" said the new driver of the old green bus as I boarded it to go home from the town this afternoon. Nothing could have prepared me for this day. All the things I knew are different and I do not know what I can do. Our little boy is still laying beneath his cold grey stone and his mother is with him. They are now together. Life has stopped and I am lost. They are gone and nothing will ever be the same.
We were so close, we did not have many friends, because we had everything inside our family, but those few we did have were not as tight a family as us. They argued, they had lives outside their home, not us, we were everything to each other.
One night the noise of our little boy coughing woke us up. The cough got worse. The next day we took him to the doctors. The day after that he was admitted to hospital. We sat with him all the time as his condition first stabilized then started to get worse. Late one Thursday afternoon the doctors advised us to go home and get some rest, he will not get worse during the night they said, and my wife was beginning to get ill herself so we went home to spend a night in bed together for the first time in many days. The next morning we boarded the new green bus. The driver asked about our little boy and how we were, then wished us well. At the hospital we were asked to wait till the ward sister came down to see us. Our little boy had died at 2 am that morning.
My wife and I would board the green bus two or three times a week to go and sit with our little boy as he lay beneath his cold grey stone. We would tell him about our days and the plans we could have kept if he had been with us. The places we could have seen and the things we could have done. We felt that being with him could still keep us close as a family. We spent many years together as a family, each year as another birthday for each of us passed my wife and I got older and we pictured our little boy doing the same.
After the shock of his death passed we were happy to spend our lives this way. My wife, myself and our little boy.
We did not make any new friends and the old ones drifted away. My wife was all I needed and to talk to our little boy.
Our lives were even happy after many years together. At home we would try to imagine our little boy was up stairs or out in the garden. Others would have thought we were mad but for us it made the loss bearable.
"Come on old timer" said the new driver of the old green bus as I boarded it to go home from the town this afternoon. Nothing could have prepared me for this day. All the things I knew are different and I do not know what I can do. Our little boy is still laying beneath his cold grey stone and his mother is with him. They are now together. Life has stopped and I am lost. They are gone and nothing will ever be the same.