““Maybe it was easier if you knew your child was dead. It was a thought that stopped him in his tracks sometimes but he knew that it was the truth. If the child was dead then you had to figure out a way forward. It was being locked in this permanent state of limbo that was keeping Sarah in bed.One night he had come home from the day with a story of one of the young lads sliding through some fairly big cow pats. The boy had landed on his butt and there had been laughter all round. Restrained laughter but, still, it was funny. He had sat on the edge of the bed and related the story to Sarah and she had smiled and then released a small giggle. Immediately he could see her regret it and he had watched her bite down hard on her lip. Hard enough to draw some blood. ‘It’s okay, Sarah,’ he had said gently. ‘It’s okay to laugh.’ ‘Bullshit, Doug,’ she had spat back at him. ‘How can you laugh if he’s not laughing? How can I laugh knowing that he may be suffering?’ ‘I . . . I . . .’ Doug had started, then he had left the room. If a child died did it end this struggle? Could you put your faith in God and heaven and know he was in a better place, laughing with other children? Was that how you were able to move on?””
