The Quiet Weight He Carries

Dear Vic,

I’ve been worried about Kenzo’s quietness at home. I’ve tried to talk to him a few times, but I think he’s been holding it together for my sake - maybe he doesn’t want me to see how much he’s hurting.

As his mum, I can’t help but worry about every little thing, especially when it comes to our child. So I reached out to the well-being officer at his school and arranged for a small catch-up session.

They told me he’s “feeling reasonably happy, with periods of sadness when he reflects on you and how much he misses you.” He read a children’s book about a boy whose father had died and the feelings and memories he experienced. Kenzo spoke briefly about his own loss, showing he understands how it’s changed both his world and mine. But then, as if to shield himself, he shifted the conversation to other things - how well he’s doing in Mathematics, or asking to play a game of Uno.

The book was called Finding Fwebbers, part of a series published by Lionheart Camp for Kids - an organisation that supports children and families after the loss of a parent or sibling. Started by staff at Perth Children’s Hospital, they run programs we could explore together.

It’s comforting to know he’s opening up to someone, even if just for a little while. But it breaks me too - knowing that at only six years old, he’s already learning to carry this kind of loss.

Still, he finds little ways to keep going. He laughs, he hugs me tight, he counts stars and wins at Uno. He misses you, Vic - every single day - but he’s also trying to live. And I’m trying, too. For him. For you. For all of us.

I wish you could see the way he’s growing - so thoughtful, so brave, so full of your quiet strength.
We’re doing our best. And I hope, wherever you are, you feel it.

— N


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