No, thank you for asking. He had meningitis when he was a baby as a result of which he had SLD, autism, speech delay and left-sided hemiplegia. He was crazy about pirates, Disney, Harry Potter, Star Wars and girls in bikinis. I'm not at home to martyrdom or pity, I'd much rather have a cold glass of champagne. I thank you.
Now that we have collected Jordan's ashes, it occurs to me that I should shift the emphasis of this blog a little, to encompass the many processes of bereavement. If the last few weeks have shown me anything, it is that each individual has a unique response to the death of someone they love.
For the record, I don't think there is an afterlife; Jordan is beyond my reach and I am beyond his. I don't think we will ever reunite. I daresay that comes across as very bleak. But it does make me see clearly that this life is not a rehearsal for anything, so it's time to carpe a little diem.
If anyone has links to posts about bereavememnt, particularly if they relate to special needs, do get in touch.
The title of this post is from Caliban's speech in 'The Tempest', one of Jordan's favourite Shakespearean plays and which was read out at Jordan's Humanist funeral.