My son Andrew would have turned 10 today.

I usually try to say a little something about him on the blog around this time of year.

This year, I commemorate Andrew through the words of a new friend, John Latham. In his day job, Latham is a leading climate scientist. He also moonlights as a poet.

I generally don’t have much appreciation for poetry. I have to
admit, when Latham pulled a book of verse he had written out of his
briefcase and handed it to me, I would have told him to keep it if that
hadn’t seemed incredibly rude.

But it turns out that, like me, John Latham had a son who died. The poems in the book, entitled Sailor Boy, are dedicated to his son.

These wonderful poems transported me back to the time of Andrew’s
death in a way I never could have imagined. I would never want to stay
in that state permanently, but nonetheless it is a gift to be able to
go back and visit once in a while. As time passes, it gets harder and
harder to reach that place.

Perhaps my favorite poem in the collection (although it is an odd one) is the one I’ve reproduced here:

Feast

She cuts in before I can explain.
Yes, I recollect your booking:
Three-tier cake. July.
Marinated prawns and quiche.

I say we have to bring it forward.
It wasn’t my reception, but my son’s.
Not his wedding, now.
His funeral.

At last she breaks the silence.
How about some nice pork pies?
Folk eat more when they’re sad.

I hear you laughing.

Andrew, we still miss you every day.

Addendum: Thanks so much to all the kind folks who posted comments below; they were profoundly moving.

I posted a comment there:

• 20.
  October 14th,
  2008
  2:10 pm

  Steven,
  My friend Carolyn just sent me a pointer to your blog. Thanks so much
  for this post. Our beautiful 14 year old son Sam died in Nov. 2006.
  (see http:….Samstones.org ) Your comment ‘it is a gift to be able to go
  back and visit once in a while.’ rings so true to me.
  As I read about Andrew I had this flash of reading Freakanomics and
  coming to the part about his passing I remember putting the book down
  and crying. I couldn’t imagine then what it would be like to lose a son
  like you had. That was before Sam died. Now I still can’t imagine it..
  if you know what I mean.
  Thanks for the pointer to John Latham’s book. Think he’d mind if I
  include this same poem in the blog I keep for Sam
  (http:….blog.myspace.com/johncohn) tonight?
  Thanks for sharing your thoughts about your son… Happy birthday Andrew
  -jc

  — Posted by john cohn

I was goign to repost that poem.. but I guess I just did….

Happy birthday Andrew,,,
Goodnight firneds
goodnight Sam
-me