For Hugo For Life

A family's longing for a child lost to Meningitis


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A day before the house move

Packing before the move

Hugo amongst the boxes in the lounge

This is my last post in the house before we move property. I’ve been a bit control freakish recently, ensuring that I prepped our belongings for the professional packers before they commenced work, to make it easier for them. Lift and shift was the idea, but I hated the idea of not knowing where everything was after the removals team had put everything in boxes, so I tidied up and organised stuff into their rightful drawers first. My investment would surely make pay off when unpacking. But I also wanted Hugo’s things separately and clearly marked so that it wouldn’t be lost amongst the melange of family items.

As a means of settling Hugo when he arrives at his new house, I put his favourite things in our suitcase for easy access. A Row Row Row your boat musical book will be one of the first things played in the house. Jasper seems indifferent to the move, not overly interested about the complete change to his home environment over the course of the following day, despite repeated but gentle reminders by his worried parents. Perhaps he has got it right; after all, we are still the same people with same behaviours and prejudices socialised and embedded over many years. I do acknowledge that the environment can play an important part of our wellbeing. So time will tell how this house will change my family but I know that we have a massive opportunity to make our mark.

We will find a little spot for Hugo. It won’t be anything like a shrine, more like a quiet space where we feel him alive again, contemplate his life in peace, maybe a photo or two. Hopefully a sunny spot will make itself known to us for this reason. Hugo has seen the place in passing seated in our car but has never set foot inside during viewings. I am drawn to imagining him running through the house if he were alive or having bath time or bedtime with mummy and daddy. He would still be sleeping in our bed. If only he was still alive.

Eva’s brothers came over today to see us and consequently were roped into doing hard labour in the garden. We have two baby trees that were planted when we first moved into Stoneleigh. One is a Grand Fir (Christmas Tree) and the other is a Korean Fir. The Korean Fir blossomed like crazy over the year and a half that we have lived here as a family. It has these beautiful purple cones that project vertically and needles for leaves that are not at all prickly but are in fact quite soft and densely packed on each branch. Its appearance is stocky and tends to grow as wide as it grows tall so it actually looks like a cuddly toy tree. This was not lost on Hugo either who used to stomp, waddle and fall over to the Korean Fir at the back of the garden to pat and cuddle the plant, which was initially the same height as Hugo. We know it as the Hugo Tree now. It is uprooted and ready to be taken today, along with the Grand Fir to be replanted in the new garden. It is a small thing, but I take a little comfort in believing that something of Hugo’s life will continue to grow near his daddy, in the tree that has had the physical touch and attention of my precious boy.

It was Father’s day just gone. I know Hugo, so do I, daddy.

 

 

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