Even his imperfections were perfect

perfect imperfections

made in such a way

that the imperfections

the…

disfigurements, flaws, deformities

were all perfect

they blended, contrasted, merged

to create a flawless whole.

Imperfections that were incompatible

opposed to life

unsuited to the here and now

not in accord with the there and then.

The perfect imperfections took flight

became what they could not be

his journey was short

but a perfect one became…

eternal.

March

It was such a long time ago. The pain once felt is a thing of the past yet when I think about him, my special little one and his short journey – well, let’s just say, the memories are vivid. They are as clear as a bright spring day, as clear as a happy splashing fountain that once would have shed tears of sadness. But the month of March brings such joy also.

The pure joy of seeing the daffodils springing up all around us, trumpeting the new season. As I look out of my window and for the first time this year the beauty of a young Japanese maple has burst into bloom, dark pink buds and a couple of eager ones that are already candy floss pink. Within the next week the tree will be full of fresh new life. And then there are the primroses, the crocuses, tulips and snowdrops. All signs of what we have to look forward to as we bid farewell to another winter.

And look forward I did all those years ago. But the vision became a dark endless tunnel. The end of the darkness did arrive though, eventually. And it is now a joy tinged with a dash of sadness that I can write about my perfect imperfection and hope that others who experience anything similar will gain hope from these words.

J.D.