Seated beside me was a young lady 24 weeks pregnant, expecting her second boy. It was a 50^th birthday party lovingly organized by a mum for her son. 7 young boys between the ages of 3 and 12 made a right racket playing together in the garden. And there was I, hanging in the middle of all of this, my thoughts going all the way back and all the way forward. It was as if I was suspended in midair, completely still, with the world whizzing around me at a dizzying speed.

Once again, it was a celebration of love.

At the beginning, the contrast between my internal and external landscapes was rather stark. It made me more aware of his physical absence if that was at all possible. In my mind I could see him as a three year old, then 7 and then 12….. it was wonderful to remember how lovely he was at every stage.

I was reminded of this verse by British poet Alfred, Lord Tennyson. It is a requiem for the poet’s beloved friend Arthur Henry Hallam, who died suddenly of a brain haemorrhage. It was written over a period of 17 years. It meditates deeply on his search for hope after great loss.

I hold it true, whate’er befall;
I feel it, when I sorrow most;
‘Tis better to have loved and lost
Than never to have loved at all.

It is a great honour to be his mum, to have loved him like crazy and for having him love me. He was an absolute star and always will be the brightest star in the sky.