My son Thomas died when he was one day old. That was nearly thirteen years ago. We’d have been celebrating his first teenage birthday this November. A teenager? We don’t really think of him as being that age. Somehow in our imaginations, he hasn’t grown up.

When I think of Thomas, I imagine him as I last saw him. He is a beautiful, precious, newborn baby with wispy hair and tiny fingers.

I wonder what Thomas would have looked like had he lived. One day I will meet him again in heaven. Will I recognise him?

When I return to my pew after receiving Holy Communion, I always whisper the Anima Christi to Jesus:

Soul of Christ, sanctify me.

Body of Christ, save me.

Blood of Christ, inebriate me.

Water from the side of Christ, wash me.

Passion of Christ, strengthen me.

O good Jesus, hear me.

Within Thy words, hide me.

Never permit me to be separated from Thee.

From the evil enemy, defend me…

As I come to the end of the prayer, I also spend a moment thinking about Thomas…

At the hour of my death call me;

And bid me come to Thee,

So that with Thy saints,

I may praise Thee forever and ever.

Amen…

I imagine Thomas waiting with Jesus to welcome me into heaven. Thomas is all grown up. He is a handsome young man. I worry we won’t recognise each other but then he says, “I love you, Mum!”

And I know that all the pain, the grief and the suffering are finally over. I am with Thomas and I am with Love.

And yes, with Thomas and all Thy saints, I will praise Thee forever and ever… Amen.

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