The older I get the more I wonder if I will ever have kids of my own. I wrote a poem a couple of years ago called “To the son I never knew”. I never wrote it to share; I wrote it for my own mental health. Since sharing it I’ve had those who were able to read it thanking me for writing it, and those who were honest enough to admit they couldn’t read past the title saying though they could appreciate the courage it must have taken me to write it, they couldn’t read it, and I tell them it’s OK. Everyone journeys life at a different pace. It took me 12 years to write that piece.Having travelled extensively for work and even getting married years later and gaining an instant family in that time I didn’t really think about it much until I moved back to where it all began. The familiar faces seeing those I saw growing up now with families of their own. It felt somewhat surreal being in such familiar surroundings after so long seeing how everyone’s lives had developed in that time and wondering where mine was headed. I was at home one day when it struck me, that I was living just down the road from the cemetery. I didn’t go there right away but when I did it was a week before his birthday. I hadn’t even remembered how close to Christmas that fateful day was, he wasn’t due until well into the New Year. It’s amazing how much and how well we can block things out from our memories to keep going. I really hadn’t had any contact with his mum since then, it was a really messy situation, and thankfully she has since married and has healthy kids. I wasn’t prepared to marry her despite her father’s insistence but I have no doubt in my mind we would have at some point, but to me her being pregnant wasn’t enough reason to tie the knot. Regardless of our relationship status though I would have raised that kid as my own. I didn’t just lose him though, I lost her too, and I think that was the hardest part. In fact we all nearly lost her, thankfully though she found her way through.
So after multiple major life changes in a short space of time I found myself reflecting on the last 12 years of my life and how different it would have been if he’d grown up calling me dad. I’ve got nieces and nephews, a god daughter and sponsor kids but none of them require a daily commitment. Though I feel so privileged being able to have the input I’m allowed into their lives.
I’ve since written a second piece called “to my unborn son” inspired the song “Always Here For You” by KJ52. I’m young enough to still have my own offspring though I also don’t feel the need to. I’m happy being able to assist in ways that I might not otherwise be able to if I had kids of my own. Yet the thought still remains, if he’d made it ….. “so many memories that were only ever dreams. So many dreams that never got to be memories”.