It took almost two years to find some kind of new normality.
To smile, and not fake some kind of happiness.
It will always be a different happiness,
compared to people who have never watched their child being buried.
It can be I guess frustrating for on lookers
take for example the pregnancies I have had since Melody, they’re supposed to be a happy occasion, new life, a new baby.
But they bring nothing but fear, and anxieties triggers of some kind, reminders that there is still and always will be a grey cloud lingering over these type of things.
Christmas is one of my favourite times of year, but now it is heavy.
Torn between happy and missing that small person at the table.
The missing gifts under the tree.
I can allow myself to be happy.
But it will always be different.