Cold To The Bone

It's the line of Joey, from Friends.

"How are you doin'?"

I miss Amelia, I tell Joey.

I miss her very much.

I miss her so much it makes me that sick I was sick.

I miss our Monkey.

I miss slicing oranges up or toasting bagels for her breakfast.

I miss her, I really do.

And it is slicing me apart just like those oranges were sliced.

But I don't miss being lied to. Or lied about.

I really don't miss that.

I miss you, little man, but you know that anyway.

If only.

We could have been great.

She knew, but never asked about you, sunshine.

My fault.

Let's get back to you and me.

Because I am still trying.

x

Well, you can't weep forever.

Can you?

Takes forever, apparently.

But it still happens.

Just having a bad day, sunshine.

Sorry mate, can't even write.

x

In two months and eleven days, you'll be born again somewhere inside my head.

I'm dreading it.

Again.

x

Just for you.

x

The coldest days are always the ones you want to be the warmest.

You will never lift another child from another cot.

Not when you've held one that's blue.

Not when you've known he was dead.

Not when you've stuttered and stumbled and staggered to his mother.

Lied.

Told her he would be okay.

Not when you waited and watched and breathed into his lungs. Tried to make him work. Tried to make him cry.

Not when when you've watched her crumble before you.

Collapsed, and helpless. Forlorn, dead inside.

Not when the light goes out from her eyes.

Or flickers dead embers at times of once sweet surprise.

Hand me them, sure.

Allow me to care.

Hell, bring them into my life.

I'll love them. And cherish them. And make them know worth.

But no more cots.

Not ever.

Just, no.

But that's not your legacy, son. That's inside me somewhere.

The place where you gurgled, the place where you smiled.

It was only once or twice, I know, my dear son.

But guess what? I remembered.

So in a way: good job done.

x

Fat Bob.

Not fat.

And not Bob.

Just a teddy bear.

With fur, and eyes, and ears, and legs, and arms, and?

Nothing.

He doesn't live.

And neither do you.

Yet.

I can hold Fat Bob.

Who isn't there.

And I can't hold you.

Who is.

Fancy giving your dad some sleep tonight?

(I love you, baby boy)