As some of you may know I am one of those mother’s who have lost a baby in a previous pregnancy. It was a son, and he was very beautiful, but something went wrong during the pregnancy. My oldest son has always felt very drawn to him. He sees him as his big brother, who is around us always and with whom he can communicate. I encourage that in him, I think it’s wonderful.
But there was a time, he was about three years old I think, he was longing so much to know his brother he contemplated ways to die so he would be able to go where he is. It was sometimes really scary to hear him say things like, mommy when I jump out of this window(we live at the eight floor), will I be dead? This was not the only idea to die that he cooked his little mind over. I sometimes really feared he wouldn’t even tell or ask me before hand and just try if one of his ideas might work. But luckily that was faze he grew out of. Now he is six and still is fascinated by his disseased brother, but in a different way. This morning he came out of bed and went straight into the bathroom, I was in the kitchen making breakfast, I just heard him stumble around out there ..... Then he came into the kitchen, with thick sleepy eyes and said;
Mommy I was just in the bathroom chatting with Morisson (that’s the name of his brother) and he says he helps me to think, because he is my brother. The sound of that sentence was so beautiful. The normal of it, the natural. He has come from far to make it into something livable and even into something pleasant for him. I am so proud of him....
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