Edgar, I wish that I could sew well enough to do justice to the blanket project, and that I had a garden and a green thumb.
But I have made a donation to Clic Sargent, and also one (in the name of Leo E. Alenpie) to the children's cancer center in my hometown in the States. I thought you might like to know that the ripples of the amazing outpouring of love that your little boy has inspired, will be felt by children and families both close to home and in other parts of the world.
I know that Leo's impact on my own life will last long beyond tomorrow, and your namechange, and the coming weeks and months. Of course I have known for a long time that little children sometimes die. And I've felt that it's awful and unfair, and I have felt sympathy for their families of course, but unless they were people I knew, I admit that I have found it too easy to keep their experiences at a mental and emotional distance.
Like everyone, I hate to see images on the news or on charity adverts of children suffering, but I have had a tendency to block out - to know, but not to allow myself to quite feel - the truth of the fact that those children are real children, every bit as precious as my own dd, with favourite things and funny little ways that are all their own, and that their mothers know by heart. That every single child who dies leaves an unfillable hole in the lives of their families and loved ones, and therefore in the world that we all share.
And that this is true, and should matter to me, whether we are strangers to each other or not.
I can't quite say why Leo's story has made that connection so real for me, or why I have felt his 'realness' so strongly despite not actually knowing him. Maybe because I saw that thread in children's health, and very nearly posted about my nephew's similar symptoms due to recurrent ear infections, and was later left reeling when I checked back and realised what an awful turn things had taken for the little boy who had reminded me of my beloved dn. Maybe because you and dh have been so eloquent in conveying your love and grief for your baby, or because of the unmistakeable sweetness of his face in the pictures that your dh posted.
Whatever the reason, I do feel that something has changed in me. The realness of every child (every person of any age) who suffers is no longer something that I can emotionally deny or push to one side simply because I do not know them personally. Of course, in order not to spend the rest of my life in a snivelling ball of despair, I know that I won't always experience the strength of feeling for every stranger that I have had for your family. But now, when I see one of those adverts or news stories and there is a mother holding her starving baby, or a plea for cancer research funding, or a fund for aid for families whose lives have been detroyed by war or natural disaster, I think, "that's Edgar"; "that's Leo."
You have come to represent for me the person whom I do not know, but whose grief I have no right to ignore.
I don't expect that making cloudydays a better person ranks high on your priorities at the moment, but I wanted to tell you a little about the 'tree' that has been planted in my life in memory of your little boy. I promise you, and him, that I will do my best to nurture it always.
May tomorrow be what you need it to be. I will be wearing bright colors and thinking of you all.