Sadness

Yesterday was Imogen Holmes' funeral. I have never attended the funeral of someone so young before. The bright colours and t-shirts bearing various cartoon characters seemed appropriate. Dad, Jason, wore a bright green t-shirt with Tom & Jerry. Big brother, Kody, wore a bright yellow Sponge-Bob t-shirt. Me, I had a bright red t-shirt that had a Ben 10 patch sewn onto it (you can't buy Ben10 t-shirts in my size - even though I'm not that big). Butterfly's were released, with one appropriately landing on the family and hanging around - maybe it was Immie. Balloons were released en masse by everyone present. It was spectacular. There were so many people. And it was terribly sad.

I stood at the gravesite behind a little boy, maybe 4 years old, with his mum and two older brothers. I don't think he stopped crying. I've never witnessed such sadness in someone so young. I don't want to witness it again. Later, one of his brothers remarked that this little boy had cried all the way in the car. Why does a small child have to know such grief? I wonder what impact it has on such a small life, to have known and understood such sadness at such a young age.

I spoke to Jason briefly after the funeral. I shook his hand, gave him a man hug, and said "I've got nothing to say." "There's nothing to say", replied Jason. "Just look after your little boy." "I will", I said, as we parted company. "But that's not going to bring back your little girl" I wanted to scream. "I want my little boy to learn to be cheeky from the master! I want him to know Immie! I want him to ask to go see 'Imja'."

As Oliver played in "Imogen's Castle" at the wake, he was calling out for her. Each night, when we ask him who he would like to pray for, 'Imja' always rates a mention.

The loss of such a young, vibrant, bright life is something I cannot comprehend.

God bless you 'Imja'. Keep watch over us. Keep watch over my little boy. And, yes, you can encourage him to be cheeky too.