I opened your bedroom door, as if I was going to find you there.
It’s as if, by some miracle, you’re still there, slumped over on your big bed, a mischievous look on your face, ready to say to me with that little smirk: “Oh yes, I’m still lounging, Mum…”.
For a few seconds, it all came back: the mess in your room, your eclectic decor, the happy chaos that presents you so much.
I almost thought I saw you, heard you breathing, felt your presence… Then your little brother’s voice brought me back to reality. Your little brother… who, in six weeks’ time, will be 19.
Your age frozen forever. I wanted to tell you something.
Bruno, your friend – Nounours to his friends – is about to become a father.
And immediately, the memories took me back to July 9, 2020… That day when Bruno, Mathéo, Largo and Paulo and I were on the banks of the Rhône in Lyon, trying to forget the anguish that was eating away at us.
We laughed and joked about your future wheelchair, imagining you racing bikes with your child.
The choice of godfather had even become a serious matter, a heated discussion that had ended in a fight between Bruno and Paulo.
In the end, Fany and I decided on you: Largo.
But the laughter and lightness hid our pain.
We tried desperately to pretend that everything was normal, while you, at that very moment, were in the operating room, facing an ordeal that no one should have to go through: the amputation of your second leg!
If life had decided otherwise, I’m sure Bruno would have chosen you as godfather for his child.
I closed the door to your room, leaving behind me these memories both sweet and cruel.
But this time, I smiled. Because life goes on, even if it doesn’t go on as planned.
Because on February 26, you would have turned 24… but for me, you’re still that young man of 19, eternally frozen in time.
I love you, my son.
Mom.
