The tin box

Today, it is 5 months to the day when Daniel died. We are supposed to be packing for our next jaunt to France only tomorrow but we don't really feel like it. We dropped into the Undertakers and brought Daniel's ashes home in a golden colour tin which is hermatically sealed. It seems hard to reconcile that our vibrant, cheeky boy will never reappear on earth. That's final. Just when I think that I can cope, my eyes seem to take on a life of their own and want to be awarded a medal for the most tears they can shed in the least amount of time...

Yesterday, I managed two whole church services without a tear!!!! In the evening we went to Hammersmith and we ddrove near Great Ormond Street. It is amazing how powerful these memories can be. I met up with a number of people from my old church who haven't seen us for about 8 years. The news had travelled...
I just feel that whenever I walk into a room there is a hush that is almost deafening. It is so hard for people as they don't know how to respond to me. When I began asking questions people felt apologetic that they had children. One friend said that she didn't like to talk about her children in front of me. It is always going to be difficult but I don't begrudge anyone having children. One of the things that I have valued the most is those people who accept that some days I am going to be "down" but try to engage me in conversation about normal stuff. There will be triggers reminding me of painful or happier times but we cannot hide from these things. Sometimes it may be the most innocent things that rekindle precious memories. It is important to be able to see what is happening to others even the grotty stuff. A friend said to me recently that she didn't want to bother me with something but I don't want to be trapped inside this prison of grief being completely oblivious to anything else.

Really glad that we are going away again and it is a good time to get away. I hope to temp again upon our return.