Wednesday feels – a bittersweet day, as can happen as we move through life fearlessly and not so bravely.

This was the first line in a post I was going to write on Wednesday. The date of my oldest child’s birth. This child, now 33 years old and we haven’t spoken for a number of years. I have no way of contacting him, though I think of him every day. I used to write a happy birthday post to him each year, hoping he would see it, or someone would show it to him. I didn’t this year, and I feel guilty about that. Also, I have stopped writing birthday cards, that he’ll never see. It’s not that I’ve given up the hope that someday we will reconnect, and his birthday will always be an important day for me, but a few years ago a family member passed on his birthday, and I am pretty sure that makes a difference for him.

Now of course I am thinking, what if he checked facebook to see if I celebrated his birthday and didn’t see a post. This is nonsense of course he wouldn’t do that, but still…

Everyday I will think of him, wish I’d done things differently when he was growing up, but hindsight and regret don’t actually change the past.

I dream of the day when I pick up the phone and hear the words Hello Mum.

For years I wanted a chance to give him my side of the story. It’s not even about that. It’s about that connection, about knowing that everything is going okay with him, that his life is happy, and he is doing okay. I’d love to hear about who he is. I mean I just know he is amazing, but I’d love that chance to re-connect and have a relationship of some kind.

These words have to come out. I don’t need pity, or worry, or are you okay? I am okay, just remembering my son, and my daughters, and feeling the need to write some words about it. Let them out so they don’t keep running around inside my head.

Belated Happy Birthday Peter!