Are you big? Or small?

Sometimes I think of you as big.

As this huge force of nature who can make magic happen.

At times you are bigger than the house and the city and whole wide world.

You become my whole purpose, unintentionally dictating how I live my life the way I do.

You make good things happen, no, you make great things happen.

But you also bring a huge wave of sadness to so many of us. A longing that’s hard to bear.

But is that true?

Or are you in-fact still small? Just one little person. A person who should be getting dressed each morning then going about their day, no pressure to do good, change laws or make the world a better place unless you so desired. A person who was here before but is now gone.

Sometimes I miss the small you.

So beautifully normal, blending into a crowd of everyday faces.

Not a higher being or invincible force.

Just you. Sticky messy face and all.

Because at the end of the day regardless of all the good you make happen now, for all the ways I’m wiser for you teaching me so many things, and for all those signs you send to me which give me immediate gratification…I’d trade it all. I don’t want any of it. Take every bit of it back.

To be sat on the sofa, watching CBeebies, with little you.

But for the record – no it’s not true.

Not the last part anyway, you don’t cause a wave of sadness, you never could.

The fact you left did – no, not leave – the fact you were taken from us does. But that wasn’t you darling, you didn’t want to go either did you?

But here we are, just a mum and son, trying to figure out how we do this while parenting thing together. How to be a grieving mum.

And if some help comes from thinking of you as big and magnificent then I’ll take it.

Or if help comes from just thinking how wonderful it would feel to hold your warm hand in mine on the way to nursery then I’ll take that too.

I’ll take it all.

The good, the sad, the little and the you that is bigger than the whole of the sky.

You that is big enough to move mountains, and as small as a boy who still trips over his wellies and can’t reach his coat peg.

No one is one thing after all, we’re all a mix, big and small, happy and sad.

You my darling, all versions of you…you’re everything.