This month last year, both of you existed simultaneously. For those couple of weeks we never knew this. Cells were multiplying inside me, imbued by the stardust of last cuddles with your brother.
I keep holding onto this thought. As your sister tells me “we have to use our imagination of our memories” when bringing RD still with us. Keeping him still alive somehow. That you’ll only have our memories of him as yours.
I know that to everyone you look like your sister. You both resemble podgy potato like Mitchell brothers as newborns. Pink and fluffy, with lego hands and pork loin thighs. And whilst you are very much you, I see all of your siblings in you.
Your eyes are the same colour as his, wide and knowing. Your energy is calm, and yet you love moving, being busy, investigating. Just like your brother.
You sit at the top of the centile chart, your brother barely grazed the bottom yet there is a glorious harmony in this juxtaposition.
You’re my first child that I’ve had so much time to gaze at and see, despite the constant demands from your sister for attention. We are free from hospital wards and worry, and for the duration of an episode of My Little Pony I soak you in. Watch the firings of understanding cross your face.
There was so much in a look, a smile, a laugh from your brother. His development stalled, I had nearly six years of trying to understand your brother through this. Now, with you, it feels so precious and familiar.
Wolf said it the other day. After a day on holiday which had been back to back niggly to dos at each other about nothing. That the source of this irritable, want to kick a bloody hay bale pissedoffedness, was feeling your brother so present in you at this stage in your development, in your body, that it made his absence feel so much bigger.