Archive | September, 2013

The final chapter

27 Sep

The players are all ready and the scene is set, it is time to play the final act and then close the curtains.

We are going to Cadgwith Cove again on Sunday. I am going to stay in my favourite pub, drink a little too much cider and sit on my favourite bench.


I will be able to listen to the waves and hear the beat, that slow rhythmical beat that lets me know that Toby is still out there and always will be. It will calm my soul and still my mind.

Think of us on Monday as we have to relive Toby’s final moments. It is his inquest you see. I really really do not want it to happen. It is an act of finality, it means that Toby will be officially dead. It means that I will have to listen to people talking about his final moments. Waiting for the accusing fingers to point at the bad mother that let her child die, listen to what happened, what was done to try and save him. Knowing that none of it could.


Do you know what it is like to not to be able to do anything to save your child, to not even be able to put up a fight for him? It is cruel. I do not want to hear any of this but I will because Toby deserves his mum to be with him right to the very end. I have been for every important moment in is life and so I will be in his death. I have found waiting for his inquest hard, as much as I do not want it to happen, I need it to happen to stop the waiting. Honestly though what do you wear to your child’s inquest? The funeral was easy, I knew what would be right but his inquest, it is so formal and so not Toby, so not me, in previous lives yes, but not now. All I own now are Doc Martens and jumpers, gone are all the suits. I wander if the coroner is the same wandering about what to wear, thinking about Toby’s inquest, will it be hard for her too or just another day in the office, another rubber stamp, another number.

So it has been a very difficult week and then I get a letter, it is a lovely letter, it is one I have been patiently waiting for. It is from the recipient of Toby’s liver. The letter lets me know the very real difference that Toby made in his final gift. He really did save lives, he meant that children did not loose their mother, other parents did not loose their children. It made me cry and cry and cry but gosh I felt better for it. It makes me so very proud to know that people are out there living good lives because of the decisions that my boy made. #tobysgift its still beating IMG_0673


The sands of time

1 Sep

So we visited Cadgwith Cove again this week. For me it is not just the place that Toby died, it is the place that I have my last treasured moments of being with him.
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All I have now are my memories, and very precious they are too. Every now and then a memory long forgotten resurfaces. It is like the beautiful sea glass I was introduced to at Cadgwith.

The beach looks full of pebbles but if you patiently scratch the surface and concentrate really hard these little jewels show themselves to you. They may just be old bits of glass smoothed by the sea but to me they represent every little scrap of memory I am still to rediscover, They are what will keep me going now no new ones can be made.

Toby’s bench looks splendid, it has been well used during the summer, as it was when we were there.

It was lovely to be given the space to just still there on our own pondering our thoughts and dreams. It is still hard to look in the direction of his fall, the rocks looked even bigger this time, even the small ones. Stephen asked me why I brought him to Cadgwith when I knew it would upset him and the answer is simple, it is because a part of Toby will forever be there, a little bit of his essence bringing a warmth to my heart.

This trip it was lovely to meet more virtual friends, it is one of the most unexpected gifts to us from Toby, all the new and very supportive friendships that he has given us through his death. They have helped us in so many ways and I would not be without each and everyone of them.

I left Toby’s bench in the knowledge that it will be well looked after and used until we can visit again. I also left with another little bit of understanding of the journey I have been on. I know now just how physically and emotionally unwell I have been in the past year. How do I know this now? Well quite simply because of how much better I feel now. It is not that I necessarily feel any differently about Toby dying, I still just want him back, I still think it is unfair and dream of him coming back. Now however I am getting so much better at dealing with my feelings. I have grown better at anticipating them and better at knowing what to do to make it easier for myself to get through the more difficult moments. I have entered a period of calm, surf board at the ever ready for any unexpected waves them may come along. I know there is no going back to how we were, I know that the life we had with Toby will never come back. I know I will always feel sad when I see or hear of something that Toby should be doing; his 18th birthday was truly heartbreaking. I know I will have no new happy memories of Toby but I also know how much I will enjoy it every time I find a piece of sea glass.