"Mummy I will carry your ashes!"

These words came from Mr Owain the other day. It was part of our late-night-before-sleep talks.

We were lying in bed, talking about nothing in particular and then we started talking about how much we loved each other. I had told the children before of a particular clause in my will. I had stipulated that I desired to be cremated and upon cremation, my ashes would not be interred in a crematorium but will be placed in a pot of jasmine (or a sweet-scented flowering plant since I now realise how difficult it was to care for jasmine after my existing pot got infested with bugs and failed to bloom!). This pot of jasmine will be given to Owain to care for.

When I first told the children this, they all squealed in horror except Owain, whose eyes shone. KH gave me an icky glare too but I don't care. This is true. It is in my will. I have chosen Owain to carry my ashes.

So that night when we talked, it was already quite a few months after I first revealed this part of the will. But Owain still remembered it.

He said, "Mummy, I will always always love you. I will carry your ashes with me and take good care of them."

"You'll carry them all the time?"

"All the time."

"Even when you go for swimming lessons?"

"Yes."

"But I'd get wet. And wet ashes will just dissolved into the water!"

"Oh. Then I will place you at the side of the pool."

"Someone might knock me over."

"Oh. Then I will not go swimming. I will sit with you."

"No," I said, giving him a hug. "Go swimming darling. Leave mummy at home."

"But you will be so lonely at home!"

"No, I will be alright. Thank you for taking care of me."

"Even when you're ashes mummy. I will always love you."

"I will love you always too. Even when I am ashes."

And that snippet of conversation, is exactly why I love my little fishball boy so fiercely, so much, with such a deep passion. I cannot imagine him growing up and (selfishly so) away from me. I cannot bear him no longer loving me with the innocence and passion of his childhood and babyhood. Yet everyday that he grows, I lose him a little, bit by bit.