Three.

He is three today.
Somewhere, somehow.

His hair is dark and long
and his laugh is loud.
And his eyes are molten chocolate,
just like hers.
And he lets her help blow out his candles
and she sings ‘Happy Birthday’.
He laughs because she is little
and he is grown
and she doesn’t know the words.

Oh, there are no words.

And, and, and..
I imagine it all.
Not today – just one day,but all the days.
I imagine his forever.

Happy Third Birthday, Aidan Christopher.

I have loved him
and kissed him
and carried him
for all of them.
For a thousand forevers
– plus one.
This, now, with
and without him.

Happy birthday, my darling boy.
Held in time eternal,
forever just-born and new.
And yet, unthinkably,
today you would be three.


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    Helen

    Helen

    Helen lives in the UK, with her husband, her daughter, and the memory of a little boy who never came home. She writes about her experience of neonatal loss, parenting rainbow babies and coping with raising a medically fragile child after losing one. You can find out more about Helen here.

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