I Swear You Will Be Fine

As I was getting ready for work the other day, I asked you what I should write about today. And at that exact moment, I saw the reflection of the latest addition to the wall facing my vanity mirror. The bright, multi-coloured, DC comics 1000 piece jigsaw puzzle, now grandly framed up on my bedroom wall with the matt gold edges. The memories revolving around the making of this jigsaw will forever be etched in my mind.

In 2015, just a few months after your difficulties first surfaced, we both started a DC jigsaw. You were just 11 years. We would both spend hours together on the puzzle. It helped you to get your mind off some thoughts. It was a tough puzzle to work on. When we finished the whole puzzle, there was one piece missing. And we were so annoyed. We tried colouring a small piece of cardboard with a magenta marker and inserted it. But the imperfection constantly stood out and annoyed you (and me, but mostly you!).

Late December 2024, you ordered another DC puzzle. It was meant to distract you during your holidays and while Sha was not around. You also said you wanted to replace the one we did 9 years ago.

We spent a little over a week doing it. We didn’t spend as much time doing it together as we did for the last puzzle. You were already struggling. I remember asking you if I could join you doing the puzzle once, and you said “Can’t you see I want to be left alone”. It wasn’t said rudely, but more, agonisingly. It was also painful during the few occasions I was doing it with you, trying to understand what was going on in your mind as you were mostly silent and desperately looking for signs that your mood was lifting. Still, we managed to spend at least a few hours doing the puzzle together. I even did some bits alone, also as a distraction for me from what was happening with you. We had a strategy. Do the edges first, and then do character by character. I would look for the pieces, and you would fit them. Often you would tell me the names of the characters, but it hardly registered. I think for every piece I placed, you did more than 10. But I would update you when I did some pieces just to try to make conversation and possibly make you happy. You would say “Good job Mum”, even though you were down.

You completed the puzzle on the 27^th of December. Tun and I tried to quickly move the puzzle to my room so you would have space to start your Harry Potter Lego, another project also meant to distract you. Alas, this did not work. This sits partially completed on the same table.

Ironically, we did DC puzzles at the start of your illness, and at the end of your illness, although that was also near the end of your life. The reflection of the puzzle on my mirror every morning as I get ready for work is a reminder of the last project we did together. But it is also a reminder of how much pain you were in. It was a struggle for me too, not knowing how to help you.

Yesterday was Bereaved Mothers’ Day. It is meant for mothers who have lost a child. I’m embarrassed to say I never knew this existed. I am also glad I forgot about it and only remembered as I went to bed. Again you orchestrated the day for me. It was only fitting that this weekend, Sha and I started another puzzle – the Aladdin puzzle you lovingly bought her for Christmas. It was and will be sad, and we will do it as slowly as possible. We think of you in every move we make, reminding us of the strategies- doing the edges, keeping the pieces in the box cover, and trying not to have many loose pieces around in case we lose them. This time I know the characters- Princess Jasmine, Aladdin, Rajah the tiger, the King and the monkey. And this time, I still look for the pieces, but it is Sha fitting them in. We are so grateful for the chance to do this together, and that you bought this for her. We also know you are sitting right next to us subtly moving the correct pieces towards us and whispering in our ears. The beautiful landscape in the Aladdin puzzle with the lilac skies and stars, and the pretty gardens make me think of the extraordinary place called heaven you are in.

Love you my darling,

Mum