AIDAN'S DIARY - NOVEMBER 2002

2 November  2002
The cluster camps have a pace and tempo that seem to soothe a distressed child and knackered parent. We spent the morning bathing in UV rays on the beach, building castles, tumbling castles and dodging rain. The afternoon was also well suited to busy little people whose hands were never idle while cutting, colouring and cooking. Aidan's rumballs were exquisite ... but I get ahead of myself.
The traditional evening banquet was themed as a 60's and 70's Rock'N Roll-athon with guest DJ's who swung each other about the hall and dragged all and sundry off their seats and into some foot tapping, butt wiggling action. 
We were indeed fortunate on this occasion to be visited by The King. the infamous Elvis Presley who rendered a tune and made the women swoon. Ok, maybe it was only one woman.
Celebrity acts included karaoke bopping, featuring Aidan on (cardboard) guitar, a band of lost ducks, which may or may not have included the author, and boot scooters for good measure.
Caitlin hit the pillow hard before the entertainment, while Aidan lasted until curtain call. The fact we had no curtains is a mere triviality.
- Dad
 

Aidan and Dad with a sandy fortress. Click to enlarge.	Caitlin with her fortifications. Click to enlarge.
Aidan and Caitlin ... ready to Rock. Click to enlarge.	Aidan and Mum ... Rocking ! Click to enlarge.

Aidan with The King.
Click to enlarge.

3 November  2002
Big and little kids made their way across the causeway to the naval base HMAS Stirling on Garden Island, a short drive from the camp. The tour bus was guided by a lady Petty Officer, who narrated some history and indicated major (non-classified) land marks around the base. By pure luck, the Collins class submarine HMAS Sheean was docked during our visit, allowing us an opportunity to get reasonably close, but less than personal with a new fangled big black sardine can.
We made our way to Camp Markham for some fun in the sun at a picturesque beach overlooking the ocean and a selection of naval ships. The water was only knee-deep for a good 100+ metres, making it an ideal playground for busy and boisterous little people. A handful of naval volunteers were on hand to cook lunch. The chief cook went to far as to bake a special mud cake that would not have been out of place at a wedding; it was a work of art. Thanks to the Navy volunteers who gave up their morning to assist with our tour.
Without a doubt, this was another successful event for the camp organisers and volunteers. Thanks to all involved.
Aidan and Caitlin returned home pooped. The parents were pooped too.
My parents were equally pooped, possibly more so. They enjoyed the company of The Boys, who were ecstatic to see us again. They were perhaps more excited at the prospect of climbing into the van and taking turns to engage every which button. The hazard lights were very popular.
- Dad
 

Aidan at Camp Markham Beach. Click to enlarge.	Caitlin at Camp Markham Beach. Click to enlarge.
Trish, Aidan and Caitlin with Darren Smith, who baked a fabulous chocolate cake. Click to enlarge.	Evan and Liam vandalising our car. Click to enlarge.

4 November  2002
The headaches have arrived.
Aidan was troubled this morning by a headache and shortly afterwards when he tripped over walking to the car. The signs speak for themselves. His teacher also remarked upon his increasing unsteadiness.
The Big Man returned home from school exhausted.
I'm quite sure Aidan was experiencing mild headaches several weeks ago, but refused to admit it to us. He's a very intelligent child and understood the significance of the headaches.
- Dad

5 November  2002
The headaches and falling over continued this morning.
We made an emergency trip to hospital to organise steroids (dexamethasone) to reduce the swelling and alleviate symptoms for as long as possible.
We were also left with an experimental immunotherapy protocol to consider which uses the host's cancer cells in a vaccine to arrest (and possibly regress) growth of the existing tumours. The statistics appear promising ... if you are a lab mouse. People are a bit more difficult, apparently.
Trish explained to Aidan this morning that his headaches and wobbles were caused by bad cells that had grown back in his head and that he may soon die. He cried.
The evening ended on a better note with Grandma's storytime.
- Dad

7 November  2002
The steroids are helping to reduce the swelling (oedima) caused by the tumours, but have the unwanted side-effects of increased appetite and grumpiness. So far, the hunger and grumps are in small measures.
Trish explained to Caitlin that Aidan was very sick and may soon die with the assistance of a book called Lifetimes by Bryan Mellonie and Robert Ingpen. There are many such books in print which allow big people to explain difficult things to little people. The fact little people are usually more clued up than we given them credit is a different matter.
Despite the disease, Aidan is still attending school, helping out and continuing to make himself the most loved little person this side of anywhere.
- Dad

8 November  2002
An invitation was extended to mineself from his highnessness to finish construction of a Megablocks jet aircraft (think Lego) at school. We made good pace, clicking and squidging bits and attracted a good deal of attention from the other class members, some curious and others real keen to help. Aidan lived up to his rascal pseudonym, gently bopping or prodding those who entered his personal space. Methinks the steroids are nibbling away at his otherwise patient manner.
The troops were bundled into the people mover later in the day and we headed west to the Big Ocean, stopping just short at Cottesloe beach for pizza and sunset, but not in that order. Such a venture would never have been possible without the worthy interception by many Greens, big and small. 
Aidan was feeling lousy on the way down, but perked right up when he saw the water and sand. He was chasing seagulls and getting sand up his hooter. 
Caitlin frolicked in the lapping waves with Big Amanda, Little Matthew took the liberty of frolicking without first removing shoes and Liam and Evan ran round and round and round. Wonderful.
While Caitlin may have been partially adopted by Big Sophie and Big Amanda, Little Matthew, who was aparently once quite keen on extra brothers, may now be reconsidering after spending time with Liam and Evan.
Here's to the beach, pizza, vino and a good dose of Green. Oh, and not to forget sand up the hooter.
Sing Halelujah brother.
- Dad
 

Aidan and Dad at work on a plane. Click to enlarge.	Aidan as himself (overlooking the Indian Ocean). Click to enlarge.
Aidan, Dad and Mum. Click to enlarge	Amalgam of Telciks and Greens (overlooking the Indian ocean). (L-R in enlargement): Caitlin, Sophie, Michelle, Liam, Tim, Aidan, Trish, Evan, Amanda, Matthew. Photos by Chris. Click to enlarge.

9 November  2002
We were reminded once again of the passage of time with a return visit to the Aquarium of Western Australia (AQWA) to ogle fish, big and small, paddle about in the touch pool and ponder the graceful flapping of seal flippers.
Aidan walked about for a goodly while, a sign of his independence and a defiant gesture to an unwanted disease, Caitlin flittered this way and that and Liam and Evan were in raptures with the small displays and gesturing wildly at the passing fish from the safe confines of the underwater tunnel. For some reason, Liam and Evan declared all fish and mammals as turtles. To give them credit, there were a few turtles in the sank, so they did get it right some of the time.
Big Matthew, an old friend and part-time child herder, performed admirably with a crook and swift kick to the butt of erant kinder. Ok, forget the kicking bit.
We bounced into Tom, another boy from Ward 3B at the hospital, and his family who were collecting tickets from the Starlight Childrens's Foundation for their forthcoming Gold Coast excursion in similar fashion to our own trip in February with the Make A Wish Foundation. Godspeed Tom & Co.
- Dad

11 November  2002
A meeting with Dr. Baker confirmed what we knew after seeing the recent MRI scans ... there are no more rabbits left in the chemo hat.
- Dad

12 November  2002
The headaches and fatigue continue, but so does school where he makes a lot of big and small people very happy.
- Dad

13 November  2002
Trish's uncle Guy fulfilled Aidan's request to visit a mine site with a tour of the Alcoa bauxite mine near Waroona, south of Perth. For those not in the know, bauxite is crushes, squished, leeched and zapped (aka. refined) into aluminium.
Guy and Graeme escorted us around the site, describing the various structures and pieces of equipment that make mining bauxite possible before loading us into a digger and dump truck to get a better feel for the nitty gritty. 
Aidan and I were jostled about in the back of a digger while it scooped and dumped bucket loads of rock and dirt into a dump truck containing Trish and Caitlin. The heat was bearable for big people, but it whacked Aidan, more so than the machinery. 
We had a birds eye view of the site from the cabin of the dump truck while delivering rocks and dirt to the crusher for mashing before it is trundled away on a 19 kilometer conveyer to the next step of refinement. Dirt  never had it so good.
Our thanks to Guy and Graeme for organising the tour, Tony for scooping and Tanya for chaufferring us to the crusher.
Photos of the day are here.
Here's to Wonder Boy!
- Dad
 

A dump truck and digger at work. Click to enlarge.

Aidan and Trish watching the digging. Click to enlarge.

14 November  2002
Aidan was up early, but was looking grey and washed out. His balance was so-so and temperament much the same.
Trish and I caught up with Mr. George Wong, Aidan's neurosurgeon, to discuss the MRI scans and ponder the possibility of further surgery. The outcome was much what we expected ... surgery is possible, but he was not willing to undertake such a venture. We can appreicate the declination, but must now look elsewhere for help. Mr. Wong recommended a fellow neurosurgeon to offer a second opinion. We shall seek him out next Tueday, 19 November. By evening, Aidan was speaking very quietly and his speech was slurred and difficult to understand. Apparently, he was very tired and incomprehensible at school too.
It will be a long weekend.
- Dad

15 November  2002
'twas a rude start to the day with our young hero in too much pain to join his classmates. Severe headaches were all the stimulus we needed for another trip to hospital. Dr. Baker prescribed morphine sulphate to join the on-going regime of dexamethasone and liquigesic. A nasty cocktail for anybody, let alone a special small man.
Aidan dozed in the car on the way home and remained in and out of consciousness for most of the evening. His voice is still very quiet and his speech is difficult to follow, side-effects of the tumour growing on the brain stem.
After an absence of many weeks, a hospice nurse returned to our abode to review Aidan.
Aidan's teacher payed a visit to her special pupil. They discussed a few details from the movie The Adventures of Elmo in Grouchland, but mostly enjoyed each other's company.
Given uncertain conditions, Aidan has now taken up residence in our room for the first time since he was a baby. All in all, a shitty day.
- Dad

16 November  2002
The morphine (thankfully) hit hard, taking the edge off the nasty headaches, but also causing drowsiness. He surfaced mid-morning and elected to return to AQWA (aka. Underwater World) to see the fish. A fly on the wall would have observed a blur of arms and legs as we collected stuff and loaded the cars with kids before Aidan zonked out again.
The trip went much better than could have been hoped with Aidan remaining conscious for the entire session and handling half an ice cream afterwards. Liam managed to eat not only his ice cream, but the remains of everybody else's too.
We returned home with four tired little people, one more tired than the rest. 
Aidan was delirious with (presumably) the morphine and climbed out of bed on several occassions, once to find his shoes and another time for no apparent reason.
Having moved him to our room was not enough. He spent the night in our bed. Very cosy.
On a more sombre note, Louisa lost her battle with medulloblastoma today and joined the angels. We met Louisa and her family at PMH on many occasions this year as she was undergoing similar treatments. Our thoughts go to Cathy, Mario and family.
- Dad
 

Caitlin, Trish, Aidan, Grandad (with twins) and Nanna at AQWA. Click to enlarge.

Grandad with Liam and Evan at AQWA. Click to enlarge.

17 November  2002
Aidan stirred reasonably early and was met equally early by one of his teachers, Mrs. Hegedus, who has also adopted Aidan into her family. She is not alone. Aidan has been adopted by most of the teachers and sometimes complete strangers. Such is his nature.
The drugs were taking their toll on our hero's eyelids, but he willied himself to watch the Disney cartoon The Jungle Book. He likes the music. Dad too.
Our house was busy with a procession of visitors, each wanting to spend some time with Superman and squeeze in a cuddle. All for a good cause.
Aunty Nicola (aka. my sister) returned from London in the afteroon after an eight month absence. Her visit will be short, but is most welcome. The twins may have forgotten her, but she hasn't forgotten them. Their resemblance to Aidan at the same age is uncanny, making it all the more difficult to forget them. She, like a handful of others, spent time with Aidan at a young age.
The night was anything but relaxing, with the instalation of an emergency morphine pump for Aidan who is having difficulty swallowing and a second emergency visit for an anti-seizure sedative. 
He sufferered what appears to be a seizure caused by the tumours. He screamed and screamed, at one point screaming "MY HEAD", arching his back, climbing from Trish to myself and also trying to climb on our heads.
We haven't seen (or heard) such pain since October 1999.
-Dad

18 November  2002
Headaches, morphine and sleep ... a pattern that should not be.
Aidan joined me about noon for a shower. I told bad jokes, he laughed. What better audience can one have ?
More visits from friends and family all equally in shock.
We invited the hospice nurses and doctor to organise a saline fluid drip for Aidan who was becoming dehydrated due to lack of fluid intake. It has become increasingly more difficult for him to swallow because the brain stem, responsible for such actions, is under thread from the tumour and associated CSF pressure.
The additional fluid helped.
- Dad

19 November  2002
Aidan woke us about dawn while attempting to reach the toilet. For an adult to achieve such a feat while heavily under the influence of narcotics and attached to a drip would be impressive. For a child, it's awesome. For Aidan, it's the norm. He's just too special to put into words.
Walking into neurosurgeon Dr. Thomas's office mid-afternon knowing that he would decline to help Aidan was not a genial encounter. I would have sooner donated my liver using a blunt spoon. We had been referred to Dr. Thomas by Mr. Wong to receive a second opinion. Opinion received, loud and clear. Fortunately, my sister Nicola joined me for the polite kick in the teeth. Trish stayed at home to care for Aidan.
Aidan slept for most of the day, a side-effect of the additional morphine required to conquer the severe headaches. Without the morphine, Aidan would be conscious for more of the day, but he would also be in immense pain. With the morphine he is restful, but also a vegetable; he is only partially awake for a few minutes every several hours. 
We spent some time reading Aidan some of his favourite stories while he was laid up in bed. Very rewarding.
Aidan's school buddy Liam paid a quick visit to deliver another cuddly bear, who has been dubbed Snow Bear, until further notice. Thankyou Liam.
One of Aidan's school chums, Zachary, also sent a handmade "get well" card featuring Harry Potter pictures. It's very touching for the little people to watch out for their own and miss them when they're not around. Thankyou Zach and Mrs. Thomson The Postie.
The support from family and friends is fabulous, but the tears still flow freely.
- Dad

20 November  2002
How can any day be good anymore ? We wonder, the time passes and we watch Aidan fade away bit by bit.
The morphine was turned up another notch today due to increasing headaches, but the alertness picked up a little too as his body adjusted to the increased narcotic. He was conscious for maybe an hour today, half of which was spent showering with his old Dad and the other half reading stories. Story time was good.
We were joined by more guests. Our bedroom has never seen so many people. If we'd had more warning we could have spruced the place up a bit with polished floor boards, new curtains and stuff.
Aidan has been the unlucky recipient of thrush (fungal infestion) in the mouth due to dehydration. We have been plying him with anti-fungal medication which has helped a bit. He has been swallowing sips of water through a straw which is a huge improvement on yesterday. He told us his throat was feeling better. He will spend the night with another saline drip to increase fluid levels and help his little body function as well as possible, given the circumstances.
Aidan's school friends were fretting more today over his absence. The teachers diverted their worry into a wall sized montage of "get well" cards. It is simply wonderful. I never cease to be amazed by the teachers and students at Aidan's school (Walliston Primary). The Mrs. Thomson Postal Service was right on cue.
Big James made a special delivery of Aidan-Man tshirts to offer support and cheer. These are essential uniform for our superhero and his followers.
- Dad
 
 

Class Montage - Part 1. Click to enlarge.

Class Montage - Part 2. Click to enlarge.

Class Montage - Part 3. Click to enlarge.

Class Montage - Part 4. Click to enlarge.

21 November  2002
A much better day, if that's possible.
Aidan was drinking a little more (think millilitres, not cups) and made his way through some chocolate jelly (jello).
More visitors (of course) and some special school friends came to sit with him during his slumbering consciousness. One of his eldest friends, Rebecca, from daycare when he was 3 and 4 years old, has always been a firestarter and genuinely lovely girl. She spent time lying next to Aidan in the bed and left with a big hug for Aidan and myself.. Wonderful.
I managed a brief foray to the school to fossick out a picture of Aidan and his buddy Andrew taken on this day last week (see above) and collect more cards from the kids. Despite Aidan not being part of class at the moment, it feels as though every inch of the room is filled with his presence. Everywhere you look there is evidence of Aidan's handiwork. I think his teacher, Mrs. Thomson, will relate.
We may have reached the end of the line for treatment options with a knockback by Dr. Charles Teo, a neurosurgeon based at The Prince of Wales Private Hospital in Sydney. Dr. Teo interpreted Aidan's last MRI as awful and was quite sure nothing could be done surgically. Parents don't like to hear that sort of news.
I carried Aidan out into the front yard to watch a thunderstorm brewing along the Darling Range. He "oowed" and "aaheed" with each of the brilliant lightning strikes. Unfortunately, the viewing was cut short by Aidan yanking out his morphine line. Ahem.
- Dad

22 November  2002
I think a surprise is in order. The sort of surprise where oncologists and surgeons declare that help is on the way. So far, every appeal for help in Australia and overseas has been met with the same thoughtful condolensces. It is quite clear these people have not met Aidan; if they had, they would be attempting something.
Our young hero spent a little more time roused today, due to his inate will to live and a reduction of the anti-seizure sedative. His grandfather was most impressed with a tongue poked in his direction. He was also quite keen to watch and listen to Jim Henson's movie Labyrinth one more time.
The cards and guests continue to arrive. One little boy from Aidan's class, Zachary, is determined to send one card every day. He has been good to his word so far. Methinks Aidan was blessed with some rather special friends at school. 
Aidan and I sat for a while in the evening to watch a lightning storm brewing on the horizon. Each flash and crack of thunder was met with an "Awww" from Aidan. The viewing was drawn to an early close by Aidan removing his morphine line (again).
- Dad

 

Caitlin, Liam, Evan, Grandad and Aidan watching Labyrinth. Click to enlarge.

Aidan and Mum building a Lego car,  courtesy of Harrison's mum Suzan. Click to enlarge.

23 November  2002
Our young hero remains, by and large, pain free thanks to the morphine. He spent a bit more time awake during his waking moments and seems to be sleeping peacefully.
We waved goodbye to my sister Nicola, who boards a plane for London this evening. It was important for her to come at this time, but is very difficult to depart knowing what will happen during her absence. Saying goodbye can be a trifle difficult when your throat is choked.
Caitlin had a little up with a fairy tree delivered by Trish's Aunty Flo. Cait is a bit of a fairy anyway, so she was getting back to her roots , as it were.
Liam and Evan take every opportunity, some good, some bad, to kiss Aidan goodnight. Given that Aidan is sleeping a lot, that's a whole lot of kissing going on.
- Dad

24 November  2002
The morning rolled around without incident. Aidan has been drinking and eating less today and complaining of abdominal pain, so another saline drip was hooked up this evening. He was not happy about the raw deal, but it should help to flush out any bladder problems.
Zach Post delivered as per schedule. Thankyou Zach.
Nanna, Grandad and Aunty Liz escorted Caitlin, Liam and Evan to the Kids Cancer Support Group christmas function. They returned with Santa booty and enjoyed their time away, by all accounts. There was no feasible way to transport Aidan to the event and keep him comfortable for several hours. Sonofbitchshit.
Mrs. Thompson arrived in time to bundle Aidan into the trailer for a stroll around the neighbourhood. his first trek anywhere in a week. He was well rugged and padded for the journey and, true to form, slept for most of it. Liam and Evan were quick to point out that "Bobo" was in the trailer. Bobo was Caitlin's early interpretation of Bubba, my nickname for Aidan as a wee young man. Liam and Evan found Bobo much easier to remember. Aidan often referred to himself as Bobo when talking to the twins.
Our hero slept for most of the day, but did manage a hug for Mum during a waking spell this evening. She was rather pleased.
- Dad

25 November  2002
Aidan stirred about noon. As per most days, I was privileged to shower him and tell him tales of yesteryear. I was treated to a hug and when I told him how much I loved him, he nodded gently. He knew. He's always known. But it was important to say it again and again.
Aidan and I threw caution to the four winds with a visit to school, he in the Chariot bicycle trailer/stroller and I as the legs doing the pushing.
After an absence of a week, the teachers and children were overjoyed to see him on home ground. We parked under the shade of a tree on the school oval and were soon mobbed (ever so politely) by all the kinder from his class in Room 3 and the adjoining class in Room 4. Picture the wilderbeasts of the Serengetti returning to the watering hole after a long hot day in the sun. The kids just wanted to see him and touch him. 
Quite unexpectedly they broke into a rendition of Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer. Aidan peeked out from under a heavy eye lid to see his friends. It was very moving. Just as well nobody saw this Dad with dirt in his eye.
Mrs. Thomson joined us after school with a batch of letters, one from each of the children who joined us on the school oval, describing their meeting with Aidan, Aidan's Dad and The Chariot. The letters were simply wonderful.
- Dad
 

Aidan returns to Room 3 with Mrs. Thomson standing vigil. Click to enlarge.

Aidan woke up briefly for Dad. Click to enlarge.

26 November  2002
It was an early start for Trish and I. Aidan's lungs had filled with too much phlegm overnight and he was gasping for breath about sunrise. His mouth had turned white and his toe/fingernails blue/black due to lack of oxygen. He became quite distressed because he couldn't breath and was reaching out to us for help. Another emergency call to the hospice nurses saved the day with the administration of a surgical pre-med that partially dried out his lungs. It was a very close call. We thought we would lose him.
It's just one thing going wrong after another. The excess phlegm is another side-effect of the morphine which slows down breathing, thereby reducing the amount of moisture expelled during normal activity. Without the morphine, his breathing should improve, but the headaches would take control.
Our hero has been labouring with breathing throughout the day and I am very concerned how he will fare through the night.
If any of our readers has a spare miracle lying about the house, now would be a very good time to send it Aidan's way.
- Dad

27 November  2002 - When We Lost a Super-Hero
Shortly before midnight my parents arrived at our house to help watch over Aidan and us during the night. My fears and concerns were routed to them via Big James and my sister Nicola, recently returned to London.
Aidan's breathing had become shallower and shallower when we tucked him into our bed the night before. After such a weary day it was only fair for him to rest easier during the night.
Our worst fear was realized just after midnight this morning when we noticed Aidan asleep in a small pool of blood. We checked his breathing and heartbeat. His heart had stopped. The biggest and kindest heart anyone could hope to encounter was so very tired from the day's labour of simply breathing and had stopped. He had slipped away in the few minutes we weren't watching. Always thoughful. Always caring. He had died peacefully in his sleep with Mum and Dad by his side. There was no pain on his face.
So it was that just after midnight this morning the world lost a superhero. Our beloved son. 
Caitlin, Liam and Evan lost the most awesome big brother. 
As a family, we lost the centre of our universe.
Our hearts are shattered into a million small pieces.
The gods alone know the depth of our loss and the extent of our pain.

I cradled Aidan, walking him around the house, showing him his toys and the things we would look after while he was away. Family and close friends arrived shortly afterwards. Big James sent an SMS message en-route to say, "That's a lot of love travelling with Aidan. He'll get charged for excess bagage for sure!".

Trish and I cuddled his little body into the early hours in the lounge. We returned with him to our room and I held him close until dawn. Trish held Caitlin.

The funeral director arrived mid-morning by which time we had washed and dressed our little man. It was a chance for one last special shower with Daddy who has relished the quiet time alone, where he could talk to Aidan about all things and he could listen and nod as appropriate or give a little chuckle of approval. Placing him on the stretcher with his special toy Barney and kissing him goodbye was just the hardest thing imaginable. We wept and wept some more. Liam and Evan waved goodbye, as is their way.

Aidan, you were the most beautiful, generous and simply wonderful son a father could ever hope to receive.
Words cannot express the bond we shared.
Words cannot tell how much I miss you. I know I will always miss you.
Sleep now without pain my beautiful Bubba.

A verse from W.H. Auden that says what I feel  ...

And some verses written by Dad for Aidan in his first year with us, happier times indeed  ...

- Dad

27 November  2002 - Collecting the Shards
Dark days and even darker nights.
The house is empty without our beloved son.
The flowers and cards have been streaming into our house, filled with the sounds of family and friends sharing our grief.
Big James escorted me to Aidan's school where we could remember the wonderful world where he spent many happy days.
- Dad

29 November  2002
To all the wonderful people who have written to us regarding Aidan over the past several months, and especially this week, can you please resend any (and all) email messages to us (telcik@iinet.net.au).
A virus destroyed my mailbox folder first this morning. I have lost all the messages sent to Aidan and us.
Even if you don't have the original message, please send another message with a similar comment just so we know who you were. Some of the messages were very touching and I am very sad they have been destroyed.
The unscrupulous bastards who distributed the virus couldn't have done so at a worse time.

Aidan's special friend from school, Zachary, sent us a card on Tuesday (25 November) to say, "Don't be sad, Aidan knows that you love him".
How a little boy can know such things is hard to contemplate. I am left wondering if Aidan was calling out to Zach in dreams from his weary body. Thankyou so much Zach. You were a special friend to Aidan.

One of the many readers sent a poem re-casting Auden's Funeral Blues with a more positive light ...

A Tribute to Aidan ... by Alison

The stars are brighter now; Aidan's smile lights every one;
Casting a glow through the moon and shining through the sun;
His strength roars in the ocean and his footsteps grace the wood;
Whispering, "Your souls will sing again; my life was short, but it was good."

Here is our death notice in the West Australian newspaper ...

Badly in need of a hug from my special boy, I ventured with Gandma, Opa and Grandad to the funeral parlour, where Aidan is resting, to read some of his favourite stories. It was every thing I could have hoped for, but nothing I expected. Another stiletto of loss through the heart.
His little body was resting in a corner of the chapel, surrounded by candles. He was the most beautiful sight for a Daddy adrift in time and space. Once the tears started, Gandma carried on with the stories, some poems to Annie Rose and a Crocodile who sings and cliumbs trees.
Goodnight buddy. Watch  over us.
- Dad

30 November  2002
We will lay Aidan's body to rest on Friday 6 December 2002 at Pinaroo Memorial Park, Whitford Avenue, Padbury, Western Australia.
The service will commence at 11 am in the Chapel, followed by the burial at 12.15 pm.

Here is the notice in the West Australian Newspaper from Seasons, the funeral directors ...

Daddy misses his little Aidan.
- Dad
 

Last updated:4-May-2003