This September my 6-year old goddaughter is starting school. She will attend a specific sports program, with training and lots of activities, I believe. Her mother kept me well informed about the preparation process, the selection of the proper school, gathering information, the entrance exam, and, now, the final steps before she starts.

During this whole time I have had controversial feelings, as always, in connection with her. See, she was born in that March when I was expecting my sweet baby boy. So it is fairly impossible for me not to make comparisons or not to feel always sad when I see her.

And this is also true this time.

You see, I wanted to give her the very first schoolbag as a present. I went around for some time, looking for the right one, also following her mother’s instructions. But I haven’t been able to find just the one, so I should be content with the possibility to pay for the one they choose together. And this is fine, I guess.

It is a good thing to see her excitement, her preparations for school. I hope she’ll be happy there.

But…

The thing is that during all this time I have felt I’m dying all over again.

I keep thinking about the things I should be doing now for my son, as a proud mom of a 6-year old. But I can’t. I CAN’T. It is impossible because he is dead. I should be able to visit schools, talk to teachers, fellow parents, worry about whether I have made the right choice for him, with him. I should be able to pick pencils, pencil cases, to look for a truly cool schoolbag for him. Then, I should be the one who chokes back her tears leaving him in the classroom the first day. And then, I should be the one who can’t wait to ask him about his days, new friends, new experiences. I should be … but I’m not.

I know he is the smartest, brightest soul somewhere around me. I know he needs no schooling, he knows better than any of us here. He has taught me so much, about myself, about life. Yet, this is just not right. And I miss him every day.

See, this is what a schoolbag makes me think of at this time of the year …

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Éva Zsák

Éva Zsák is 39. She lives in Hungary and Italy. She is a teacher and an interpreter, but now also a medical school student. Her little angel, Peter is her only child. He died five years ago due to a premature rupture of membranes. This experience changed her life completely. She started to learn about grief and child-loss and the importance of the human factor in doctor-patient relationships. She likes reading, poetry, and literature in general.

Latest posts by Éva Zsák (see all)

• What Child is This? - December 24, 2016
• A New Schoolbag - September 5, 2016
• No Simple Path to Okay - August 19, 2016