I wanted so badly to dismiss its significance, to pretend that it was all okay, but it occurred to me that doing so would be dishonouring Tommy and his life and his worth. It wasn't okay. Losing him, I realised, wasn't justifiable in the ways that we justified old age or illness or tragedy. Somebody brought him into the world, as they did me, with the knowledge that before he'd even reach middle age he'd be dead.

More than sad, I felt angry. And I'm not sure I'd let myself feel like that prior to that point. Prior to seeing Peter, the boy that looked just like Tommy but broke my heart when he was not. She was right. It ached. How could it have done anything less? How could I have felt any better? "I should have expected it," I said. "I've met so many look-a-likes. I should have figured."