Goodbye My Beautiful Boy

 

- Sarah Pullen

There’s a moment I wish my son dead. I wish for him to be killed instantly in a car crash. Can you imagine wishing your child dead? I never thought I could, until a stranger in a suit tells me my 10-year-old son is going to die in a matter of months. That he’ll die a tortuous, undignified death which will rob him of his personality long before his heart finally stops beating.

It’s August 2012 and Britain’s in the midst of Olympic fever. Silas is feeling under the weather and has a run of bad headaches for a few days. We twig that something is really amiss on the Sunday. We have guests. The house is full of kids, but Silas sits with his head in his hands.

‘You don’t understand,’ he says, as one of his brothers accuses him of making a fuss. ‘My headache’s so bad. Take me to hospital. Please, please,’ he begs. ‘I feel like I’m dying.’

My eyes meet my husband Ben’s and I see my concern mirrored in his. We give Silas some paracetamol and within half an hour, he feels better. He joins us for a big lunch. We play cricket in the garden.

‘What do you want for supper, darling?’

I ask. Silas mumbles a few unintelligible words. ‘I, I, I…’

I look up. ‘My eyes search his face. ‘I... I   can’t think,’ he says. I hold his shoulders and lower myself to his level. ‘Do you feel all right?’ He nods. ‘What’s wrong then?’

‘I...I...’ he stutters.

‘Don’t joke, Silas,’ I say. ‘Promise me you aren’t joking!’ He shakes his head.

‘What’s your name?’ I ask. ‘Si… Si... Si... Si.’

His eyes widen in horror.