There's something wrong in the state of Denmark… and I think I may be it.

Month: August, 2013

It’s all really simple…

I want my son back. Things never feel better.


People ask where I am, where I’ve gone. I wonder who I am and can’t remember the me who existed before this.

Who I am today doesn’t fit. Anywhere. Or into anything.

This is going to sound awful but I have reached weird levels of missing Hudson. It is a true fact that, if I knew exactly where Hudson had gone (like heaven, or wherever) and I knew that I could go to him, I would. My mother would receive a pretty note saying “don’t cry for me, Argentina” and I would go to him.

Of course that’s not going to work. Cos if heaven exists that means god exists and if god exists we all know he doesn’t tolerate suicide. So I’m screwed if that’s the story. And the alternative, the belief that there is nothing after this, is just too much for me to contemplate. I cannot let myself believe that was it for him.

Not knowing where he is has been a painful part of this death thing. Not as painful as realising that the only active memories I have of my son actually moving (memories that don’t look like non-moving snapshots) are the constant flashbacks to the morning he died and stopped moving forever – not even close, but painful nonetheless.

Not knowing he’s okay is impossible for someone who always had to know he was okay before.

And people are kind. They tell you they saw him in a dream and he’s happy or he visited them and all is right with his world or he chose this journey for a reason – hell, I even said those words in my eulogy. But if I knew all of this to be true and I knew dying now would mean I could spend more time with my baby boy, I would go.

Does that sound strange?

I’m not brave enough to test the theory, though. And I couldn’t do that to his dad.

Death is horrible; it’s miserable and sucky. More death wouldn’t solve the problem.

It might be preferable to some though as I’m becoming that snippy ball of intolerance people warned me I might become. I see pansy-pants posts on Facebook with long, plagiarised bits of copy telling me, in a word, to man the fuck up cos life ain’t so bad. And my first instinct involves swearing and defriending because it fucking is that bad and my attitude determining my altitude isn’t going to bring him back or turn back time or undo the last phase of my life.

So where do I go? What do I do? How do I feel better?

Maybe the answer is… you just don’t, Andrea. You just fucking don’t. Deal with it. Welcome to your new life. It’s miserable but it involves breath entering your body and exiting it and you should be grateful for that.

Maybe that’s it.

The one thing I do know now is that I get it. I get those people who die soon after losing their lifelong spouse or children.

I get it.

I thought my heart had been broken before – broken by men, broken by family, broken by unachieved expectations.

I was wrong. And stupid. And naive. Nothing breaks a person like this.

My heart is breaking today. Now. Every second a tiny piece tears away from the organ and floats into my body – I know it’s happening, I can feel the physical pain and longing.

Those people… their hearts broke.

They couldn’t live without their person.

And I don’t know how we will.


Your dad’s final words to you…

People have mentioned the fact that I haven’t included Nick’s eulogy on the blog… to be honest, I’m not sure why. I guess I just thought eulogies are a weird thing to share with the world. But I am going to share it, because Hudson’s father shared in honouring him that day and his words should be released into the universe alongside my own.

So, here they are…

I’ve often sat and wondered how someone pays tribute. Where do you find the words to illustrate how someone defines your life, someone who has shown you meaning and given you direction. How do you find the words to express the profound impact such a little person can make in your life.

I now know you can’t.

Simple words cannot truly explain the intricate and subliminal bonds formed between a parent and their child. But what I do have is Hudson Turkish (my son) who gave me the opportunity to experience it, experience meaning, experience direction.

And it is these experiences and times with Hudson, my son, that will now change and define my life moving forward. Death is truly unfair, and for this I am angry; angry at everything and angry at nothing all at the same time. The only solace I have is you my son.

Hudson Turkish Slater-Smith, I am your father and now more of a Gentleman for having shared in your time with us.


To my ATIO Team

I cannot express my thanks and gratitude. The weight lifted from my shoulders through all the difficult times and with the teams support throughout, helped me be the best dad I could be for Hudson, and I know my Hudson would agree. It is not the work that I do, but the people I work with that will help me endure this dark time in my life.

To the Fleishman Hillard Team

I don’t think I will ever fully realise the impact and love my small little boy had on you. From me, I would like to thank you! I know the following weeks and months will be hard and challenging for my family, and knowing Andrea will be looked after when I am not around will ease the burden.

To all of our Friends, Family and Friends who are now family

All I can say is thank you! Nnever have I felt more alone and yet have so many people to call on. Your messages of support throughout Hudson’s short time helped Andrea and I to give Hudson our full attention and love. Your support and kindness made our journey with Hudson that much more special.

To Clinton and Bruce

My only regret is that Hudson did not get the chance to fully appreciate the friendship and bonds I feel and share with you. I know Hudson loved you guys.

To my Sister, Hudson’s Favourite Aunty

Hudson is a better man for have known you. Your love for your little Huddy was and is insurmountable, and you helped make him the happy little boy I will always remember. Your unswaying strength, bravery and support will never be forgotten. I hope you can cherish the moment you and your Huddy shared. It is only with the power of Family that we can truly face our demons.

At this point I think it would be a tragedy in itself not to take a moment and try to depict the magnetic attraction Hudson Turkish had on the people he met and even the ones he didn’t. I can say with a lot of certainty and a little bias, that the first time you met him, seen a picture of him, or even heard the way in which his Mother and Father spoke of him, it was instant love. Hudson lived a short and happy life and yet touched more hearts and souls than most of us sitting here.

So a special mention must go to Rudo, Hudson’s daytime play-toy. Rudo you spent a lot of time with our little Hudson over his last few weeks and I could see the love he already had for you every day I came home. Hudson will miss your playtimes together, and I am thankful to you for the memories you gave him.


To Nana and BB

My Rocks, my pillars of strength. Hudson will miss you both for the times he got to share with you. Never has a kid been more deserving of family like you, than like Hudson was to have you in his life. Nothing I say or do can or will ever diminish the pain that you both feel. All I can promise is that I will share in all his memories with you.

To my Dearest Darling Andrea

Thank you for giving me the best gift in Hudson Turkish Slater-Smith our son. I don’t know anyone with your strength of character and Hudson and I will forever stand in Awe of the Mother you are. Every memory I have of our son is shared with you. I will always cherish the way we loved our son, the way we shared our son, but most importantly the freedom you afforded me with my boi.

I can never truly appreciate the bond you shared with Hudson, but I did get a glimpse. The first time he woke up in ICU was my light-bulb moment, my moment of realisation. Those big gorgeous eyes looking up at you, transfixed, as if he knew you were there and as long as he could see you he knew he would be safe.

The road ahead will be hard and arduous, and I do not have all the answers. What I do believe is that your love for our Hudson, cemented what I always knew. I am so sorry for your heartache, and will always share in it with you.






Hudson Turkish Slater-Smith

Man I love your name – Hudson Turkish Slater-Smith

You know, you know forever and ever, you know…


This for me will be the hardest part and I ask you to please bear with me. I feel that it would be a fitting end to my note, with the only word I heard my Hudson say…