Great Christian Diaries

2003-10-03 - 1.56am (4th)  previous entry  next entry

I don’t know where to start this evening, but I went to see Cameron’s body this afternoon. I really did. I am so proud of myself because it was such a hard thing to do, and it took all my courage. But I’m so so so glad I went. I feel so completely different now. In some ways anyway. I’m gonna write about it in as much detail as I can for my own records, because I don’t want to forget anything about the experience. So if you’re likely not to want to read stuff about a visit to see a dead child’s body, then I just wanted to say here so that you can stop reading now if you want to. It wasn’t awful though, and I don’t think anything I write will be horrible. But just so you know.

Okay I took my bath and dressed in blue jeans and a sweater. Not my well-worn blue jeans though. And I blow-dried my hair. This part is irrelevant isn’t it? Oh well. I’m writing it anyway. I packed a whole box of tissues and a lip balm, and then I went. The traffic was terrible so it took me a while. My heart was just racing when I got near the place. I parked up in a nearby residential road, and then walked to the funeral place. I really really really did not want to go in. My stomach was churning and my heart was banging so hard, and my throat was closed up, and my hands were shaking and sweating, and I just did NOT want to go in. It was all too close and too real for comfort. Plus I was still scared of how I would react when I saw him. For some crazy reason I was afraid that I would throw up. I just thought what if I couldn’t handle it and my stomach just emptied. Yuck, I know, but for some reason I was scared about it. I prayed that God would give me the strength I needed and the courage to face it, and also that he would guard and protect me while I was in there, so that I would not throw up or faint or anything else untoward! And he was faithful yet again. I did not do either of those things.

I went in and the door rang a loud cheerful bell-sound, so there was no way I could suddenly turn around and run away without being noticed. A lady appeared and I said I was here to see Cameron. She said she would just check the chapel and I sat awkwardly in a chair in the reception area until she came back. When she returned, she asked if I’d ever been in a funeral chapel before. I said no. I could hardly get words out of my throat, it was so weird, and I was so scared of nothing I could put my finger on. She was so nice, she made things seem so natural and non-scary, which I was so grateful for. She explained how the room was small with just an open coffin with the lid over against the wall, and one chair. She said, “As you walk in you will see Cameron pretty much straight away in the coffin on the right hand side of the room.” Just explaining it like that was so helpful, to know what to expect. She gestured to start walking to the chapel, and I said, “Does he look normal?” I suppose I was desperate for some assurance that he would still look like my Cam, so that I could be prepared if he didn’t. She said he was a bit puffy, but otherwise he looked normal. I must have hesitated because she looked at me so kindly and she said she would come in with me. And by that time we were at the door. She opened it and led the way in. And there he was.

He looked so small and so still, like he wasn’t real at all actually. The lady went straight up to him and touched his hand, keeping eye contact with me. She was brilliant actually. I could tell she was inviting me to come closer, leading by example. Do they get trained to help people like that or was this particular lady just completely wonderful? She was a specific answer to prayer, so I am really grateful to God.

I walked up to the side of the coffin and looked in at him. He lay in a honeyed pine coffin, with silver handles, and ivory satin underneath him. He had a little ivory satin pillow under his head. There was like a satin covering which ran from end to end of the coffin, and it was slit down the middle. It overflowed the edges onto the outside of the coffin too. Cam lay underneath this covering, but it was parted to reveal him – I guess it’s a softening look or something. His feet and lower legs were covered, and his arm that was nearest to me was under the satin too, but the rest of him was all there for me to see. He was wearing his favourite navy Harry Potter t-shirt, with a picture from one of the movies and a caption about Hogwarts on it. And navy trousers. His hands were resting on his tummy, and between them was a little green alien teddy, wearing a doctor’s outfit with a logo on it. I didn’t recognise it but I guess it was a favourite of his, otherwise he wouldn’t have had it with him. He was wearing his glasses too.

I didn’t know what to say or how to respond to seeing Cameron, but it was definitely him. I mean, you know, I knew it would be, but it was SO him, and yet not him at the same time. There’s no way to explain what a dead person looks like unless you have seen one yourself – you can never understand till you see. It’s not awful at all. Just blunt and true, and inexplicable somehow. He looked so….. there was nothing there at all. Just a body. Just a shell. No life of any sort. He didn’t look real. When I found my voice, I said, “Oh, he looks like one of those wax models at Madame Tussauds!” because he totally did. That’s exactly what he looked like. Something so realistic that you could hardly tell it wasn’t a real human being, but thoroughly without life of any sort. His skin was sort of waxy looking too, so he really could have been a wax model to my eyes. So still. I never saw anybody so still. The nice lady agreed with me, and then she touched his hand again and looked at me. I asked, “Is he cold?” – knowing of course that he would be, but again I just wanted someone to lead me through like a child, obvious answers to obvious questions, because somehow things seemed more comforting that way. She said, “Yes, he’s cold.” And I asked if I could touch him. She said yes, and once I touched him she stood back a bit. His hand was cold, like when you’ve been out on a wintery day without gloves. Not icy cold, but very cold all the same. But his skin was soft, which seemed unexpected to me. He felt waxy though, and so cold, and I didn’t feel comfortable keeping my hand in constant contact with his.

The lady smiled and commented on his t-shirt, but I was not able to take her in anymore, because touching Cameron had opened me up to getting past the barrier of the fear of seeing him and touching him, and I just couldn’t take my eyes off him. Nothing else could go into my head but what I was seeing and feeling, and the tears came. The lady asked if I was happy to be left alone now, and I said yes, so she went.

I don’t know what I did. That’s why I am trying to write on the same day in as much detail as possible, because I know I will forget. There was so much emotion and so much to take in, more than my brain would usually handle. So I didn’t want to forget. But I already can’t really remember what I did at first. I cried a lot. I couldn’t take my eyes off his face for the longest time. I stroked his poor cold hand with one shaking finger and after a while just started to whisper, “IloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyou” over and over again for a long time. I don’t remember how long.

He was very puffy, around his face and neck mostly. I guess his heart couldn’t pump out his fluids efficiently if it was failing, so that would make him puffy. But his colour was fine. I know they use make up in funeral parlours. You could hardly tell though. Except his lips. They used a sort of flesh-pink colour on his lips. They were parted and you could see his front teeth. That was the weirdest part for me probably, I don’t know why. I guess I normally saw him with his mouth closed or else open in lively chat or laughter, not so still and parted like that. But with his teeth together, his lips always sort of parted naturally anyway. He has lovely lips. They always sort of turned outwards, like they were ready to smile at any second. Lips are one of the parts of the human body that are never still, even in sleep. Or if they are it’s only for a matter of seconds usually. Did you ever notice that about lips? Even if they only twitch slightly, they always move a lot. Cameron’s in particular were alllways moving! He was always chatting and laughing. He often pulled the bottom one in under his teeth like when he was watching TV or something, and since he was often dehydrated, he would lick them a lot. So to stand there for what felt like an eternity without his lips moving, just staying parted like that, so still and so lifeless…. That was the weirdest most uncomfortable part for me I think.

I can’t remember what happened after that. I pulled up the chair I think, because the lady had said I could pull the chair up to the edge of the coffin if I wanted to. I sat in it, but couldn’t stay still so I kept getting up and sitting down again. I couldn’t see Cameron from the angle I was most comfy with from the chair, so I didn’t stay in it for long. But I kept feeling overwhelmed and wanted to sit down now and then.

I couldn’t actually believe it was him. But then right the next second I totally could and then I couldn’t believe he was dead. But the second after that I could, and then I felt normal for a nanosecond, and then I couldn’t believe it was him again, and so on. I just kept stroking his index finger with mine. His hands were the least life-like of all. They looked the most wax-worky. Like someone had used what they thought was a natural skin coloured wax, but it wasn’t actually that realistic. They were pale but cream-coloured, not white like I’d expected. The nails too, no pink at all. Soft though, and once I got less timid, I found that his fingers moved quite normally if I lifted them or moved them. But they were so so cold. I wanted to warm him up somehow, and honestly for a crazy while in my mind, I really felt like if only I could warm him up he’d be alive again. How could he be alive if he was so cold? Surely he just needed to warm up again to get the blood flowing…. I am not so naïve to really believe that, but in a funny way I actually did for a little bit. But even laying my rather warm hand on his for a while (I was very hot in that room in my sweater), his own hand didn’t retain any of the heat of mine at all, not even a little bit. Even my teddy takes my body warmth more readily than Cameron did today. That felt kind of scary and out of controlly to me at the time. Like there was nothing I could do, not even the slightest thing. Which of course I already knew, but still.

The lady knocked at the door after about 10 or 15 minutes – I don’t know how long I had been there, but afterwards I reckoned it must have been about that. She apologised but said there was a funeral procession about to leave, and they needed to bring the deceased through Cameron’s room to the back of the building. She said it would only take a moment and asked if I would like to wait in the office with another staff member. I almost thought I would go at that point, since I did not know what else I was there to do, other than what I’d already been doing. But I was crying and messy and not in a fit state to go walking down the street back to my car, so I agreed. The lady in the office was the same lady I spoke to on the phone earlier this afternoon. I cried and she was very nice to me. She said it was always so hard when children came to them – hard on all the staff. I asked if they have children often, and she said yes. That really surprised me. She said, “You’d think that we mostly get people at the end of their natural lifetimes, but actually it’s fairly even across all the ages – babies, children, adults of all ages.” I was so surprised. I had assumed Cam was quite rare. She talked about how inconceivably hard it must be on the parents. I can’t even begin to imagine. Even though I keep saying he’s mine in my heart, I still can’t imagine. If I feel like this, how much worse must parents of these children be? I can’t imagine. It must be terrible.

I told her how I knew Cameron, and then the other lady came back and they apologised again. She showed me back into the room, and closed the door saying I could take as much time as I wanted now.

So I did. I cried some more, but then things started to feel different. I started to feel more used to seeing Cameron dead like that, and it wasn’t so shocking to my eyes or mind anymore. I stayed at least an hour. I looked around the room more. I started to talk to him. That felt weird at first, and I knew there was no-one there to hear me – not even Cam - but ohhh I can’t begin to tell you how how much of a release that was, to just talk and talk and talk like he was really there, just him and me – just EXACTLY the closure I needed all along. I talked and sat and stood with him for 40 or 50 minutes. I didn’t cry much in the last half of that. Things felt so different. I don’t know how to explain how.

I wanted to examine him more closely than I had, now that the fear of seeing him dead was subsiding. So I looked at his hands more carefully. I saw where his intravenous line had been, carefully concealed with make up, but not healing in the least of course. He had a couple of the normal kids’ scrapes on his hands, and when I looked at his other hand, I found he had a nasty injury to his second fingernail – obviously from before he was ill as it had been in the process of growing back when he died. I said, “Ooh, what did you do to your fingernail?!!” Weird isn’t it? But it felt normal to ask, even then. I asked what he was wearing on his feet, and parted the satin cover to take a look. Sandals. His favourite ones. And socks. The right one had a stain on it, like a skin leak or something, so I did not look for long.

I hope nobody minds me writing this much detail about a dead body here. It’s not exactly nice reading material, but I really needed to write everything I could remember here, for me.

He had a wrist band on, the type you wear in hospital, and I turned his wrist to see what was written on it. Just his name. I touched his forehead, but it was quite hard, maybe because of the make up, but I didn’t touch it again because it didn’t feel okay inside that he didn’t still have that soft warm forehead that I kissed so many times, and stroked for endless hours while he slept as a little one. I had wanted to stroke his forehead so I was sad that I couldn’t do so without feeling odd. But I stroked his hair, which was soft and normal, and just as it always was.

I talked to him about everything. Everything. I asked him about the teddy bear he had with him. I commented on what he was wearing, told him how I felt when I saw him, how he looked to me now. I was real with him about what looked scary to me and what didn’t. I talked to him about the people he loved, his family, his best friend, and how much we were missing him already. I talked to him about his funeral, and what would happen, what route we would all take from the church to the cemetery, and what would happen there. I told him he would be in the car in front, right where he belonged to be. I talked to him like I really would if he was alive and listening. I didn’t use any ways of explaining things that I wouldn’t normally use with him. I told him how it’s been raining this week, and the leaves are falling off the trees now. I complimented him on his very nice coffin, and read out the writing on his plaque to him:

Cameron Anthony (surname)
Died 24th September 2003
Aged 11 years

It’s a very nice shiny plaque, and I told him so. I told him what they did to his face and hands at the funeral parlour, how they put fleshy pink stuff on his lips, but that I liked his lips their normal colour anyway. How he was so cold, and how his hands were so pale and like wax. I told him he still looked like Cameron to me. I told him he would always have special place in my heart and I would always love him so much, that nobody would ever replace him because he was unique. That I never met anyone with such a heart of gold, and that I bet right now as I was talking to him, he was with God full of life and warmth and health and happiness, and getting seriously rewarded for being such a kind, generous, loving, precious person.

I told him how sorry I was that he had died. How sorry I was that he had to suffer so much in his life, and how proud of him I am that he never complained, that he gave so much to so many people despite what he had to endure. I told him I knew he had been happy, and that I was glad. That I was glad I had been able to make him happy. That I was so thankful to have known him. I cried as I told him how sorry I was that his heart got so sick and that it caused him to die. That he didn’t survive the surgery and that he had to be so poorly before he died.

I told him that he saved my life, and then I explained how. I told him that he never knew this, but I had been unhappy, very unhappy, with my life. That I was so sad all the time that I didn’t know what to do, and I didn’t want to do anything. I couldn’t find anything to be happy about. But then I met him, and for many years, while he was little, he was the only thing that made me happy, the only thing that made me want to get up and keep going. I thanked him for it. I told him I wasn’t going to slump into an “I’ve lost Cameron” rut or anything, or I was going to try hard not to. I said this to hold myself accountable, incase I am finding it hard to deal with in the months to come. If I do, I simply remind myself that I told Cameron I wouldn’t, and maybe that will give me motivation to pick up again. I said I didn’t know if he’d thought much about what I might be doing in the future. I said I reckoned he might have thought about whether I’d have kids of my own one day. I told him I was going to have children of my own just as soon as I possibly could, and that I would find a way of honouring him if I had a son, perhaps using his name in there somewhere. I said my own children would never take his place, that he was the first child in my heart, and that he was special, and that would never change. I said how I wished he was alive to meet my children when they came along. But then I said actually I wondered that it was probably right that he was the only child in my heart while he was alive. I don’t know why I said that. But it felt right anyway.

I did a lot of reminiscing with Cameron. I talked a lot about fun times we’d had, and about things he had said and done when he was little. I talked about the last time I saw him and the last time I spoke to him on the phone – how sorry I was that I didn’t tell him how much I loved him and all this stuff when he was alive to hear and understand me. I talked about my wedding and said how glad I was that I had so many photos of him, and the wedding video. I even laughed talking to him about our dance at the wedding reception. I said I was sorry I never showed him the video or the photos.

Then I remembered three things I did in his whole life that I was sorry for – three times when I think I made him feel uncomfortable. They were all things like taking him to see a friend and he didn’t want to go in, but I coaxed and encouraged and we went in anyway, though he seemed rather unsure – this was when he was about two or three. And a time when I wanted to give him something “different” to do when he’d been stuck in hospital for ages one time, again when he was two or three. I took him on the bus to Wimbledon, just for a bus ride, and then straight back to the hospital on the train, for a train ride. I had planned it for several days. I knew he’d been on a bus before, but I didn’t think he’d been on a train. He loved the bus ride – LOVED it! We went on the top deck. He adored every second and his voice was full of excitement and joy the whole ride as he pointed things out to me and stuff. But he hated the train ride. He didn’t want to get on when it pulled into the station, he was scared, and we had to get on because it was there and we had to get home and I’d bought the tickets. So I took him on anyway. He didn’t make a fuss – Cam never did – but he was very whimpery all the way home and kept asking if we could get off now. I felt so bad. I never ever made him uncomfortable other than those three times, and I regret ever having made him feel iffy even for a second. So I reminded him of those three occasions and said I was so sorry to have made him uncomfortable. Boy was that a weight off. I hadn’t realised how much I’d been carrying those for all this time. I kept saying to him, “Okay I’m going to go now” but then I’d just start talking about something else and stay another 10 minutes! I laughed because it was just how we always were, and I reminded him of that. How when he was little at the hospital, I would say I was leaving now, at the end of a long day with him, but somehow I’d always be there an hour later, and often stay until there were lights out on the ward and he was in bed asleep, late into the evening. And how whenever we spoke on the phone, even the last time I talked to him on the phone, we’d talk for ages, and then I’d say, “Well I’ll leave you to it then” and he’d go, “Okay… Ohhh yeah!! Did I tell you about….” And off we’d go again for another 10 or 20 minutes, until I said it again, and then it would happen again. We often talked for a good 40 minutes. He never seemed to want me to go. And as long as he wanted me to stay, I never wanted to leave him. So we just went round in circles! And today was no different, except it was only me. Same “interaction” cycle though.

I miss him.

I’m sure I said other stuff to him – I said SO much stuff, and I want to remember it all, but I can’t think of any more for now. I will write more as I remember it, because I do not want to forget anything, not even the tiniest detail. I prayed, standing next to his coffin, just me and him in the room, and God. I thanked God for blessing me with this precious child, and for all that he’d done for me through Cameron. I asked that he’d help me and all those who love Cameron and miss him, to have strength and comfort over the coming months and for the funeral. Then I told Cam I’d see him on Monday at the funeral. But that of course I wouldn’t really “see” him, because he’d be hidden in the box, and anyway I knew he wasn’t really there anyway. I told him I knew we would see each other again in heaven, and that I couldn’t wait to see him there, even if it was decades away. I really can’t wait to see him.

The lady from the office knocked at the door, and when she opened it, she said another lady was here to see Cameron, and would I mind if she came in or should they give me a few more minutes. I said I was finished and thanked her. I had already said goodbye, and told Cam how glad I was of the opportunity to do so with just us, before the big public event on Monday. I took one last look at him – my very last look in my lifetime here on earth, and I tried to take in his features. I told him I was trying to commit to memory all the little physical features that make him Cameron. I realised about 50 minutes into my time with him that the thing that was different that I couldn’t put my finger on was his lack of naso-gastric tube on his face! I suddenly went, “Oh! It’s your nose tube!” and grinned at him. It’s amazing how different I started to feel during the second half-hour with him. Maybe it was talking with him, maybe it was getting used to seeing him dead like that, or maybe just the psychological closure, I don’t know. All I know is that I felt light and peaceful about it by the end. Absolutely bursting with gratitude that I’d been able to see him, and thrilled that I’d managed to pluck up the courage to go before it was too late. It made all the difference in the world to me. I said goodbye. Properly, and to his face, just me and him. Not while he was alive, which I regret, but this is by far the next best thing. Much better than the funeral I think. My own private goodbye. And all the things I said needed saying too. I’m glad I got to say them.

I was so grateful to the funeral place, and I felt positively glowing as I came out of the chapel. I didn’t know if it should be right to feel glowing like that in a funeral parlour! But I did. The hurt and emptiness remains, but ohhh the other thing, whatever that was, that was hurting so bad and weighing me down and messing my sleep up – that’s gone, lifted, and I’m so relieved. As the lady showed me to the front door, I met Cameron’s other visitor in the reception area. She was sitting hunched up in the same chair where I’d sat hunched up, flushed with adrenaline and emotion just like I had been. You could see the tension and anxiety and anguish in her so clearly. My heart went out to her so much because I knew exactly how she was feeling – and I knew it was going to be hard for her too, like it was hard for me the first time seeing Cameron in the coffin, and for the first ten or twenty minutes. I hoped she’d stay long enough to find the closure and peace that I had been blessed to find. She recognised me but I didn’t recognise her. She said she thought we’d met once, and that she had been one of Cameron’s one-to-one helpers at school. I said I had been his one-to-one helper at the hospital. She looked so full of anguish. I wanted to say something kindly to her, to ease her anxiety about seeing him, to tell her that it would be okay, but nothing came. She said at least he was at peace now, and I said, “Yes, and he looks it too” and smiled. I told the funeral lady how glad I was that I came, and how at peace I feel now, compared with when I sat with her in her office. She was so nice about it and so pleased that I felt better. Everyone there was so wonderful. I hope that Cam’s visitor was comforted by hearing me say all that while she was still in earshot. Or maybe she was like me and unable to take in anything while so much was going on in her head.

Anyway, I left feeling okay about leaving Cameron, which was a relief too, as I didn’t know how well I’d deal with that. But the truth is, it was made so much easier by the fact that it was so clear and obvious that he wasn’t “there” to be left behind. I don’t know how better to explain it. A dead body is only a body. I told Cam so as well. Like the soul is who you are, and you wear clothes throughout your life – your body – just like in life we wear fabric clothes. When we die, the soul isn’t there, not even at all, and all that’s left is the clothes. Imagine someone you know only ever wore the exact same set of clothes, which was very hard wearing so it never needed replacing or anything, so you always always saw them in it. Even when they were little, because they had an identical set made every time they grew out of it. Can you imagine?! A person always wearing the exact same clothes, and you never see them in anything different. And then one day they die, and when you go to see them in the chapel, all that’s there is their clothing. Of course it’s all you’ve ever seem them in, and you associate it completely with them, so it’s going to be somewhat like seeing them in person. But that’s all that’s there. Just the clothes. Cameron was as absent from his body as a person is from their clothes when they take them off. I can’t explain it any better. You have to see for yourself to truly understand and know what it looks like. And it’s not scary. It’s nothing to be afraid of.

In the old days people used to die a lot more, children most frequently, and their bodies used to be kept in the family’s house until they were buried. People would visit them. The family would see them frequently after they’d died. It was a fairly normal thing to see. These days death is fought and fought to desperate measures, and when it finally happens it’s hidden away and not talked about much, and nobody sees the body. TV confuses things by building on the fear that this system has already created about death and dead people, and the images of people who have died bear little resemblance to reality actually. How could they when they are portayed by live actors? No make up or skilful acting can impersonate a real dead person, it’s not possible, because no matter how you try to disguise it, the person’s spirit is still there within them, and that is what makes the difference in how they look. I wish we didn’t hide away from death so much these days, or use it as a thriller in entertainment to thrill or scare people. Death is a normal part of living. The emotions that come with it are too. Dead bodies are not scary in the least, not when you just get in there and see them. Honestly they’re not. It’s the hype and inexperience that causes people to think otherwise.

What I did today was one of the healthiest things I have ever done, and although it was terribly hard, it was the best thing for me in the end. I’m so glad I went to see him. People are already saying I’m brave to have done so, but I just feel….. normal about it really. Cameron is SO in heaven! I know it in my knower. And that’s the greatest comfort of all.

Thank you SO much Meg and Shelley for your messages about today!! And thank you so so much to everyone who has been praying for me and thinking of me. I have needed those prayers so much! But God is faithful and has answered every single one, yet again – why oh why do I ever doubt him?!

But I need to ask you to pray again for something. I phoned Cameron’s mum tonight to ask what to wear to the funeral, and to tell her I went to see Cam. She was so pleased that I’d been to see him. She doesn’t think she can. Plus she already said her goodbyes when he died. But she has been having contractions since last night – they were so bad this morning that she and her husband went into hospital, but they sent her home after a while. I asked when the baby was due, and she said SUNDAY!!! Cam’s funeral is Monday. Oh my goodness. I had no idea she was due so soon. I knew it was this month, but I didn’t know this soon. They considered inducing her but don’t want to risk complications if the baby is not ready to come yet (sensible doctors at LAST!!), because if she ended up with a Caesarean she would not be able to go to the funeral, which would be awful. However, if she gives birth before the funeral she will only be like 24 hours recovered from the birth and she’ll have a tiny dependent newborn AND her son’s funeral to attend. But if she hangs on till after the funeral it’s going to be hanging over her all day on Monday, incase her waters break or something. She had a fairly strong contraction while I was on the phone with her. I do not know what to pray. She says she doesn’t mind if it’s now or after the funeral, just so long as she can go to the funeral. She says they are going to induce her the day after the funeral anyway if the baby hasn’t appeared before then.

Can you even imagine what she’s going through? It boggles my brain. So please pray that this baby will come in God’s timing, and that she will be absolutely fine and free to attend the funeral and be focused on Cameron in every way that she needs to be on the day. Please pray because I am worried that she will transfer resentment to the baby if she can’t mourn Cam like she needs to and be at the funeral. I am sort of expecting to hear that she will have given birth tonight actually. I am no expert, having never finished my midwifery, and having never given birth, and by the fact that you can rarely predict what a pregnant woman’s body is going to do by what it’s doing now! But her contractions sound pretty strong, different to Braxton Hicks, painful, and by her descriptions they sound like they are definitely dilating the cervix. So maybe tonight would be best? Better than later in the weekend, because it gives her more time I guess. But it’s still gonna be so hard, with a brand new baby, having just given birth, and having your own child’s funeral to attend. Plus their little monkey of a livewire three-year-old! Anyway, please pray.

This entry is so long. And it's so late - almost 2am! But I needed to write it all in one go. I’m just so happy and relieved about today. I did cry once I got home after seeing Cameron, but all my feelings are lighter and different, and always tinged with relief, and I’m so proud of myself for standing against fear like I did today. I wanted to see Cam’s photos as soon as I got home, just to reassure myself that I could still remember him alive, but that was fairly obvious because when I left the funeral place I didn’t feel like there was a huge image of him in the coffin in my mind. Not at all. It was just one of my collection of memories of him, already, even so soon after making it. So I am much reassured.

I’m just so thrilled that I knew him. And so glad that we loved each other so much.

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