From the perspective of Smurfs Mother at the home she once shared with her boys after both their deaths. Hope you can enjoy x
My sons are dead.
My Boys are dead.
My Geraint and my Dylan are dead.
It almost makes me want to laugh, it's sick I know. I know it's sick that I want to laugh at how my two boys are dead.
It makes me want to laugh at how i'll never shout at Geraint for bring home a girl after a night out or laugh at Dylan for trying to do the same. Or that I'll never be able to shout at them for playing those bloody game box things they had at three in the morning.
It makes me want to laugh that at the time I wished they would stop but now that there gone I want them back so badly.
But there dead.
My sons are dead.
My boys are dead.
My Geraint and my Dylan are dead.
Why?
I don't even know why.
Geraint didn't even stand a chance. Captain James said it was over in seconds.
And then Dylan. Just as I got him home just as Captain James brought him home and he was meant to be okay again he was ripped away from me.
Captain James.
I gave my boys to Captain James. I gave my boys to Captain James and the Army.
And all they could do was give me a flag? A fucking flag.
I can buy hundred flags on eBay but I can't buy my boys back because they are dead.
And now I'm alone in this house haunted with them.
This was meant to be them.
It was meant to be them mourning me.
Remember the times I would shout at them for bringing mud all into the house after playing football with their friends. Or when we would laugh over takeaways because I would burn food anytime it went near the oven.
It was meant to be them.
I wish it was them. Does that make me even more sick for wishing I was dead instead? That just makes me want to laugh some more. Or is it sick that some flags are meant to make everything okay? Make me okay? They would have to be some flags.