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birthday boy.

Jackson, my boy, as you’re three today,

There are two or three things that I’d like say.

There are one or two things you might never have known,

And there are some things I’ll remind you of when you are grown.

One lovely thing that I’d first like to say,

Is that we found out you were coming on Valentine’s Day.

We waited a long time for you to come,

Then finally you were there in your Mummy’s tum.

And you slept best in there during the day,

When you’d never wriggle nor ever play.

At night, however, your limbs grew twitchy,

You’d stop Mummy sleeping and that made her witchy.

So she ate strange things to ease her troubles,

Like fistfuls of soap and Fairy liquid bubbles.

Did you know you like fish fingers because of your Mummy?

She ate millions of them when you were in her tummy.

Did you also know she nearly called you Sonny?

Or that we named you Jackson after my mummy’s mummy?

It was Great-Grandma’s last name when she was a baby,

Do you remember her, Jackson? She was a lovely lady.

And there’s still so much that I’d like to say,

About my boy born on a Sunday.

And that’s the day that Daddy came too,

But I don’t think I held out as long as you.

You took four days and Daddy grew drowsy,

I shouldn’t have told Mummy though, she thought that was lousy.

You were perfect that day, your skin soft as peaches,

You wouldn’t come naturally but that spared your features.

And the emergency delivery room was so chilly,

That Mummy didn’t even notice your willy.

You had big brown eyes and hair that looked styled,

And everyone said that you’d drive the girls wild.

You drove our hearts crazy, that’s for sure,

You changed our lives forever more.

And the next two years were our happiest ever,

And I won’t forget them, son, I promise I’ll never.

And I want you to know more about Mummy and you:

Little things like your trip to the zoo,

Small things like how you’d share a bath,

And all the things she did to make you laugh.

No one made you laugh more than she,

And everything she did was for you and for me.

And you made her the happiest that she’d ever been,

The most devoted mummy that I’d ever seen.

And it’s a small thing, I know, but your mummy cried,

At something you did the day that she died.

You sat on our bed and sang Happy Birthday at last,

You’d learnt the words after her birthday had passed.

And the pride in her eyes was something to treasure,

And the love in her heart for you beyond measure.

And her love and pride for you were her last words spoken,

And her love and pride for you can never be broken.

And I’d like to say thank you for helping me through,

And I want you to know how much I love you.


This is syndicated content from Life as a widower

Content reproduced with the kind permission of Benjamin Brooks-Dutton

The views expressed in this blog are solely those of the blogger and do not necessarily represent the views of

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