Chapter 13 - Flanders

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There were, however, places which became out of bounds. These were places that were also suffused with incidents and memories. One was London Zoo. I had been there a couple of times with Max, but every incident, every nuance was etched deeply. I could not face visiting there with Paula until about a year and a half after Max died.

I also stopped going back to Wales to see my immediate family. This was where we had gone as a family for most of our holidays. It is where Sara's and my family still live. There were too many reminders, too many triggers which just made the visits too painful. We tried going back as a family after Max died only to discover a vast gaping hole that was Max.

Slowly as time passed these prohibitions were whittled away. Slowly I learnt that I had to face these fears and horrors to be able to move past them. There was a lot of pain in doing so, but afterwards it felt that yet another mountain had been scaled, yet another hurdle had been passed.

I went back to the Royal Marsden Hospital four times during this period. Each time I got no further than sitting in the car and crying long and hard for about quarter of an hour. Despite this, each time there was a feeling that some of the weight had been lifted. Eventually I reached the point where I could visit the hospital without tears.

There were also bolts from the blue, where the past and present collided violently and with no warning. I was shaken one day when I climbed on top of Paula's bed. It is a bunk bed with a desk beneath it. I had built cupboards near the ceiling next to the bed. On the wood bordering the cupboard was the word 'Daddy' scrawled in pencil. I asked her why she'd written it. She said she hadn't but that it had been written by Max. The upper bunk bed had been Max's before he died. I felt bewildered. It was as if he was reaching out from the past to try and talk to me. I wanted to ask him 'Why'? I wanted to talk to him, to cuddle him, to make sure that everything was well but was left with just a void.

Looking at Max's photos was very upsetting. When I visited someone else's house and saw a picture of him, it was like a sledgehammer blow. We had his photos all around our house. As Sara commented, we knew where our photos were and would look at them when we felt we could bear it. It was then I realised that I was subconsciously avoiding them.

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