There is this thing we like to do. We put the iPod on, put it on shuffle and cascade our way through the playlists.
Most songs are skipped because Daddy has just too much Genesis; some songs are only listened to for the nostalgic chorus and some songs, well they just make you want to get up and feel the music or at least to attempt to dance.
‘Ok, one more time, Mummy’s back hurts because you’re a heavy lump’
I place you on my hip, you wrap your arms around my neck. We’re head to head. I belt out that tune as best as I can. You laugh and you grab my face and do that grimace that shows how much you love something.
I jump around as much as I can with a 28lb child strapped to my waist.
I’m sweating, laughing, trying to breathe; you’re clinging on to me and squinting with joy.
The music changes, I attempt to put you down but you’ll have none of it. So we go through it again and again until I am so red in the face that I’m worried I’ll combust.
Soon, you’ll be too big to dance on my hip, but we’ll dance hand to hand.
After a while, you’ll be too cool to dance with Mummy.
I hope that day never comes.
Mummy is grieving, grieving so strongly for a future that was meant to be very different. I’m most definitely going through the 5 stages.
I’ve been (still) so very sad. I’ve been (still) very angry, I’ve been (always will be) depressed. I’ve been in denial and I’ve bargained with every faith possible.
Acceptance is something that will take a long time to be granted.
So until that time comes, indulge me.
Dance with Mummy, like we’ve never been hurt.