Deja Vu

Last night I found myself once again telling Osh that we were going to London; it wasn't any easier than the last time.
We were driving home from school and he was happily munching on sweets, I thought that was as good a time as any.
I explained that Martha needed another operation, that we would be gone for a few weeks and that his Nains and Taids would be here to look after him and Isabella.

When I had finished speaking he asked...
"Mammi are you crying?"
"A little." I answered
"Me too!" he replied, my heart broke for him.
He's only seven, he needs his Mammi just as much as any other child - only he has to live with the fact that in order to save his Sister then his parents must leave for a couple of weeks; he has no choice but to accept this. I know he loves Martha; I can see that clearly when he insists on pulling the hood of her pram down each morning outside school so he can reach in and give her a kiss.
I tried to cheer him up by making the promise that once we're all together again - our Christmas can start. We'll go out to buy our Christmas tree and decorations and start watching Christmas films; even if we're home at the end of November and everyone protests that it's far too early - I don't care. I think that did the trick, then he couldn't stop talking about his Christmas films and how he wants Hot Chocolate with a tin of posh Christmas Biscuits. I hope that's enough to keep him going through the hard weeks ahead, because that's what I'm going to be clinging on too.
My brave boy and girls deserve the best Christmas this year more than ever.

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