The Fear

It's the middle of the night I can't sleep. 2:47am. I'm tired and exhausted. There's a tightness in my chest and I can feel my heart beating all too fast. My ears are ringing and my eyes are struggling to focus. I try breathing slowly as I attempt to get it under control but it doesn't work. I try listening to The Voice but any words of comfort are being drowned out by the sound of my own laboured breathing and the rapid pulsing of my heartbeat echoing in my head. Nothing works. There is no reason to why this comes over me at certain times, the feeling just creeps in and as soon as I acknowledge it, it lingers and grows. The anxiety doesn't have a name or any recognisable trigger, there is no catalyst, it just is. It's not like I was thinking about a particular thing and it started there, it's just a general feeling of unease. Although I have been here before, these episodes are different. The worries are very much real and it's not just me stressing myself out for reasons I just couldn't put my finger on like I used to. My fears are exactly that. Fears. I'm scared. My mortality is a very palpable feeling. 

There's a rising feeling of anxiety and a uncontrollable sense of panic bubbling up from deep inside. I can't switch it off. The floodgates that hold back a torrent of worry are about to burst open with thousand concerns. And a thousand more what ifs.

I'm jammed in between the kids in bed and I can't risk moving in case I wake them up. This only exacerbates the worry. If I move I may disturb them. If I get out of bed and they wake up to find me not there they will get a fright. There will be tears and confusion. This has happened before, so I'm stuck here, unable to get up and try to clear my head. Unable to get up and even call a friend. 

So my worries have now got a focus and I can't get the thought out of my head: what would happen if something happened to me? I'm here alone with the two of them. There's no back up. This thought alone is a rabbit hole. Imagining them in any situation where they need to help me or help themselves without me is totally panic inducing. My brain keeps making me imagine it. Repeatedly. I have no answers. Against my will I can't think of anything but the worse. All I can hear is my heart pounding fast and all I feel is the dizzying sensation of trying to catch my breath. Rather absurdly my mind focuses on the front door. We have one of those composite doors with no handle on the outside. Since it was fitted it has always jammed. Even adults struggle with it. My brain is now panicking me into thinking what if something happened to me and they couldn't open the door. What if they needed to get out and I couldn't help them? What if they had to let someone in and couldn't? Now I'm feeling even more anxious. My mind is racing, processing all these worries so quickly that I can barely focus on one to think of a solution. How will they cope? I need to plan. I'm need to show them how to use my phone in an emergency. Would this, in turn, worry them? I need to look at the settings on my phone in regards to emergency details. I need to do something.

Plan for the worse. Hope for the best. I've hoped for the best before and what I got was the worse. How do other people in my situation cope with these worries? Of all the many concerns I have, my health is at the top. It's a very real worry. I simply cannot let them be without us both. It's an terrifying thought. Utterly terrifying. 

I lie down next to them and make a determined effort to get some control again. I need to. They are warm and at peace. I try to borrow some of that calm innocence that they exude in sleep. I close my eyes and concentrate on my breathing. Hallie rolls over and puts an arm around me, Aden is radiating warmth beside me. My heart is still beating fast but the rushing sound that filled my head is dissipating. While they are my biggest concern, they are also my salvation. They heal me. I can't remember falling asleep. I'm just grateful I did. 

I've called about my door and I've programmed my phone to send a message to family when the on button is pressed 5 times in succession. This is the way my life is now. I need to cover all the bases. Acknowledging my fears will provide solutions. I need to do this for them. This is more difficult than I feared but despite it all; the worries, the panic, the actual fear, I know that I will come out the other side. We will do it together. Because I love them I will take their fears and make them mine and all those fears will be unsuspectingly cured in turn by their love. 

Love over fear. Love will prevail.

The Birthday Time

In just under the space of three weeks Hallie, Aden and Laura all celebrate their birthdays. Hallie was 7 at the end of February and Aden will be 9 in March and sandwiched between them is Laura's birthday.

I have found this period particularly taxing. I don't quite know why. I don't think it has anything to do with having to organise both Hallie's and Aden's birthdays in a short space of time, although I have to say that is was quite stressful as organising their birthdays, like everything else really, was Laura's forte. I generally just did the running around, the blowing up of balloons and the picking up cakes and treats. 

I had suffered a bit of a Christmas hangover at the beginning of the year. Christmas was constantly on my mind for months and when it was over and they went back to school I felt exhausted. I had no motivation. I felt lethargic. Empty. As usual I put my game-face on and got on with things despite the hollow feeling inside. Then one morning I woke up and it was suddenly 4 weeks until Hallie's birthday and I hadn't organised anything. I also didn't "bank" any present ideas from Christmas so I was at a loss to what to actually buy them. (Note to self for next year.) I also didn't have a clue what to do on their actual birthdays. Laura always had new and original ideas party-wise, I had none. So I decided that Laura's ideas from last year were so good I'd do them again, only I tweaked them slightly if at all. The kids seemed happy enough with that so after a quick consultation they enthusiastically agreed. It was only afterwards when I was leafing through Laura's Books that I found she had written down birthday party ideas for the next few years. Of course she had. I'm disappointed in myself that I didn't think to look in her books initially. For context Laura had note books that she wrote things down in. There are weekly/monthly financial breakdowns and forecasts for coming months. Ideas, allowances and outlay for special occasions. There are also not only the aforementioned birthday plans but also suggestions for gifts for their 18th and 21st birthdays. She also has pictures to back this up on her phone. Again, it's hard to imagine the sadness she felt writing these ideas down knowing that she would never she the result or experience the joy. 

So now I'm in the middle of birthday season and even though my mind is full of organising and planning, my heart feels heavy. Laura loved their birthdays and it hurts that she isn't here for them. I'm feeling the weight of her sadness that last year was her last with them and even more so that she knew that. This period is another one of those firsts; her first birthday gone and their first birthdays without her. Time just seems to be marching on relentlessly and the universe appears unmoved by the fact that with every passing day she is further gone from us. That is not to say she is fading from our memory but these firsts continue to mark the passing of time and that makes me feel like I'm strapped tightly in a roller-coaster seat and I'm craning my neck to look backwards at a point that is becoming increasingly smaller. 

However, I bought her birthday cards from the kids and me. Just like she is here. We'll have a cake, make wishes on her behalf and sing happy birthday. Just like she is here. And in that way we are keeping her here, despite what the universe and time may say. 

The Voice

I've found this quite hard to write. I write it, go back, rewrite, delete, then start all over again. 

It might be due to the opening of The Door. 

It could be because it sounds like a cry for help. But even though what I'm writing may sound that way, it isn't really. It's all part of it, part of the process. All part of the task ahead and the current state of play. I do feel that I need to write this about the following though; I am not writing this to fish for compliments, for friends and family to say I'm doing amazing and not to doubt myself. Nor am I writing as some sort of ego trip or a longing for affirmation that would validate my actions. I am also not writing this for some great outpouring of sympathy. I am acutely aware that I am not the first, or last, person to be going through this or the only one facing trials in life. Although it's about me, it's not really for me. This blog has never been about that. I don't want to be The Number One Dad singular. I would much prefer to be Back Up Dad to The Number One Mam. 

I am writing this because I know Aden and Hallie will read this one day. It is my sincere hope that they will read it and understand why I behaved in such a manner and why I made the decisions I made and will make in the future. Those times when I was stressed and lost my temper. Those times in the evening when I was tired and frustrated and snapped at them. Those times when I got it wrong. Those times, and there are many, when I just didn't know what to do. 

If truth be told I struggle with practically everything. And I struggle on a daily basis. On the outside it looks like I'm doing a good job and I'm coping admirably, but I'm plagued with doubt and worry, especially when it comes to the children. I feel I snap a lot. I feel that I say no too often. I feel incredibly guilty when I shout at them or get upset about something they have or haven't done even though I know that parents up and down the land, since the beginning of time, have gone through or are going through the exactly same thing. Children test barriers often and regularly. It's the nature of it. I just feel hopeless sometimes, most times. 

I wonder constantly if Laura would have done this or that even though I know that that in itself is holding my actions to a high, near impossible, standard. I've said it before and I'll say it again, Laura was a far better parent than I'll ever be. I tend to hold my annoyance more than Laura did. She was patient and understanding, I'm having to learn to be that. If they do something wrong my automatic response is that I want them to learn something from it but then I stupidly go about that lesson in the completely wrong way. I know this for a fact. I get it wrong because I'm approaching the whole scenario like an adult instead of a child. I have found that looking at it from their point of view is better, however, that thinking totally escapes me in the heat of the moment and I only think of it later. And mostly when it's too late. Everything is easier with the power of hindsight. 

I worry about the future. Their future. Will they be okay without the balance that Laura would have provided? I worry about my ability to be both parents. I don't even know if that's a feasible goal. 

I worry about my own health and about always being there for them. I've never worried about diet and exercise as much as I do now. I have never been so aware of my age and mortality as I am now. And even though I worry about it, ironically I don't do much to change it. I get into a panic about this regularly. 

I worry that I should talk to them about Laura more than we do. I worry that they are bottling up a lot of pain. I wonder what they are thinking. I know, writing this, makes me feel awful, as I should actually know what they are thinking or at least have a good idea. But in truth, I don't. We talk about Laura often, we mention her often, we look at her phone every day for memories but we don't talk about how they feel about it. I just don't want to upset them. They have gotten upset in the past so I don't want to do that to them again. Should I wait and let it run its course or should I meet it head on or should I subtly broach the subject? Until now I have been content to let them come to me and watch for any signs but I am worried that they are bottling too much up. What if they are afraid to come to me as they think they'll upset me? It can't be a good thing. We are in completely uncharted territory and the guide says that everyone reacts differently. So what exactly am I meant to do? 

All these fears are very real. They keep me awake at night. They sap my motivation. They chip away at my will power. There are good days and bad. On those bad days, and nights, I listen to The Voice.

The Voice lives in my head. The Voice is my own. But it is also not. It gives me advice and repeats everything that everyone is saying and thinking. All those supportive and helpful things. The Voice can be wise and assured. The Voice tells me in the midnight hour, whilst the kids are sleeping, that I needn't stress, that I shouldn't worry, that everything will be okay if I stick to my instincts. The Voice tells me that stressing about details and how I'm doing overall will help no one. The Voice echoes exactly what everyone is saying, that it's an incredibly tough task and I'm doing just fine. The Voice always gives me real advice that seems to point that things will be okay. But as with everything, there is an opposite force. The Negativity. The Negativity doesn't have a voice. It just is. It's background noise. A niggle. A worry. It chips in opinion like a heckler. I want to ignore it but I can't. It lingers. Even though it doesn't have a Voice, it doesn't make it any less pertinent or diminish its presence in any way. Even in the darkness it casts a shadow. 

There are times when I try to bend my will to make that voice sound like Laura. It never works. It is probably just as well. She'd probably tell me off for doubting myself and remind me that I have a job to do. However I do listen to The Voice and it calms me. I concentrate on it and try to block everything else out. It is difficult. The negativity is a creeping sense of panic, of anxiety and when it threatens to engulf me in the middle of the night or numb me in the loneliness of the day, and those overwhelming times when I miss Laura most, The Voice manages to lull me to sleep or motivates me into action. I've recently realised that The Voice isn't one person. It's you. It's all of you. It's what you said in passing. It's a note on messenger. It's a kind word. It's a gesture. A smile. A hello. 

Thank you for giving your kindness to The Voice. 

Precious Time

I didn't like my job. There I've said it. I did like it initially and probably for about half the 27 years I did it I did enjoy it. There were times in the other half that it was okay, times when I worked with really good people but generally I didn't enjoy it. Working 6 days a week, early starts, late finishes, 14 hour shifts (also known as AFD, All F*cking Day), rude customers, strict licencing laws, unachievable bonus system, shit wages, treated like a suspect if there were (explainable) stock shortages yet never rewarded for all the surpluses, no real work/balance, I could go on as the list is long. But, as usual, the great disclaimer, it paid the bills. 

I remember when the slide into my dislike happened. It was about 9 years ago. And it was when Aden was born. 

At first shift work is a bonus. I managed my shifts around Aden and it saved us a fortune on childcare and also meant I could have some quality time with him. The ultimate downside, however, is that in my profession I had to work weekends. This was compounded even further when Hallie arrived two years later and Aden started nursery. By the time both of them were at school/nursery my time with them was limited to the occasional evening and the one afternoon of the weekend. Even those evenings after you consider feeding them and getting them ready for bed, coupled with my own tiredness, it isn't that much time at all. I missed so much. Laura often attended their friends birthday parties and any special occasions without me as I "had to go to work". 

It annoys me on many levels to this day. I/we missed so many things together that other families did regularly. Going away for the day or weekend or simply making plans that didn't involve me either saying I couldn't go or do it, or keeping an eye on the clock when I was able to. I missed all that due to my job. Even when I said it paid the bills, it did. Just. Considering the job I was doing and the responsibility it entailed, the wage wasn't great. So I lament the fact that I sacrificed everything for a job that fundamentally didn't pay me well, had zero work/life balance and I basically didn't enjoy. It became even more apparent when Covid resulted in the entire licence trade going into lockdown. Lockdown, for me, was actually a blessing. Yes, I had the time to be more involved with the kids, from home-schooling to teaching them how to ride a bike but it was also about that time when Laura was first diagnosed with Primary Breast Cancer. So not only did it dawn on me how much time with the kids I had actually missed out on but it also, with Laura's diagnosis, brought into sharp focus how much more important family life is and how precious that time is.

The one thing that really gets me now is that Laura spent so much time with them in my absence and now all those memories have gone. I don't just mean the days away and occasions that there are pictures and memories of and details that others can supply, I mean the actual detail. Laura had a great memory for detail. She will have remembered all their firsts, silly little things that happened and things unique to them. She would have shared these things with me but I didn't bank them because you don't really think that way. I just presumed that Laura would always be here and therefore all her memories and stories would be intact too. While it could be argued that it's not worth getting upset about, that I need to concentrate on the future and making new memories, I still feel that loss acutely. There's a the wider issue to that loss. When my parents passed I wished I asked more questions regarding their history, our history. With Laura's passing and the subsequent loss of her memories, stories and thoughts, I feel a huge emptiness coupled with bitter disappointment as they cannot be replaced.

So why didn't I change things? I knew the job wasn't conducive to family life, so why didn't I do something about it? Well, I was too lazy and afraid. I was stuck in my ways. We used to talk about it often. Laura would urge me to do it and constantly remind me that it was only me that could do it, that it's not going to fall into my lap. We very rarely had crossed words but when we did it was always about my job. It wasn't just the kids I didn't see much of. I knew of some friends who have actually left the trade and it was the best thing they had every done. Their family life was now rich and full. But I didn't. I'd look for a bit, consider the options and promptly slip back into my old ways.

So I wish I had been braver. I missed too much. I sacrificed too much. The happiness. All those precious times and all that precious time. I can't take it back. But you can. If you feel you are missing out, then you probably are. If you feel something needs to change, then it probably does. Not everyone is in the same position. Many people with 9 to 5 jobs may not feel the same as they have weekends off and that bit of quality time but there will probably still be something that you are able to change for the better. It has been said to me on more than a few occasions recently that my situation has made some husbands and partners re-evaluate their own situation. Some wonder if their husbands will have coped as well as I have (more on this subject soon) as they don't have anything to do with finances and household administration etc,. Meanwhile husbands and partners have openly admitted to me that they don't have anything to do with certain things domestically and that they should really address this. Let me say this, I didn't either, so all of this is very new to me. Laura was this household. I said on the very first post of this blog that I'm mainly writing this for the kids and for myself but also for anyone else it may help. I said that if I helped just one person then it would be all worthwhile. This may be one of those occasions. The household dynamic doesn't always have to be the same. It isn't written in stone. Nothing will change unless you make changes.

Don't live to work. Take action. Have courage. We only get one shot at this. Your time is unbelievably precious. Remember that.

The Phone Call

 26th January 2022 4:30pm

"It's come back. I have secondary cancer. It's in my lungs and liver..."

That's all I really remember from that moment in time. 

There wasn't a dramatic slowing of time. It didn't stand still. I wasn't completely frozen in that moment. Instead, time rushed toward me. It had an end. Time for us was now completely different. 

We all know our time will come but the ending for the great majority of us is unknown. We are all here for a limited time. That is written in stone. We go through life and our day to days rarely considering that our time is finite. It's better that way. We, however, were now in a place where time had a full stop. It no longer stretched out before us full of opportunity, hopes and dreams.  For us, for Laura, time was now known to have an end.

We didn't know how long at the time. It wouldn't be for another two weeks before we found out. What we thought was a chest infection was actually the cancer returning. It had never actually gone away. She was diagnosed with Stage 4 Triple Negative Breast Cancer. Once her cancer had metastasized, spread to other parts of the body, the prognosis is bad. There is no cure. She was given a year. 

I said I would be there as soon as. I think I called my sister and told her so she could watch the children while I went to hospital. When I got to the ward she was sitting up in bed. I pulled the curtain around us and starting crying. I could barely get a word out while Laura let me cry. I can't recall our conversation. My mind won't let me remember the details. Laura, although upset, was also very calm. In her head I am sure she was already planning. She apologised for not waiting for me to be there when they gave her the results but she had to know. I think I just kept repeating how unfair this is, that she, being younger, was meant to outlive me, that she would be better equipped than me and basically how are we going to cope without her. None of this actually helped. She just kept calmly telling me that I'll be okay, while I cried my heart out. 

Laura had been in hospital for 4 days at that point and she was sent home the following day with some leaflets and websites we should look up. That was it. Left in limbo. Still in pain and now with the extra burden of her diagnosis. We heard nothing else until her appointment two weeks later. During that time Laura's health didn't improve with the medication she was given and although she was in a bad place mentally, she still managed to organise and attend Hallie's birthday party. At that party I remember her sitting to the side, pale and gaunt. No one at the party, except me and one of her best friends, knew about her diagnosis. I daresay that any of them knew about her primary cancer either, such was her determination to be business as usual. At the time I was torn between her and Hallie. Laura wanted me to focus on making her party perfect but I was constantly checking on her, even if it was just with a nod. It was only afterwards that it all truly dawned on me. She was sitting there, watching, smiling, in pain, knowing in her heart that this was possibly going to be last birthday party of Hallie's that she would see. All of those lasts Laura faced with incredible strength. Every, single, one of them. A week later she was back in hospital for another 6 days, too poorly to start her new chemo regime. She got through that too, in time for her own 40th and Aden's birthday, which followed in quick succession in March. Her determination to be there for the kids at this point was her drive. And it manifested itself in sheer willpower. 

During both these hospital stints I had been looking after the kids. Every time I picked them up from school they'd ask if Mammy was back home. They made cards and wrote messages. They slept in our bed every night and we would facetime her and send her videos and pictures. The videos and pictures kept her strength up...

26th January 2023 

...just like they do for me a year on. 

We are still here. In our bed. Every night we look at those pictures and videos. The adjustment has been made. They know Mam has gone. I am organising their first birthdays without her. It's been hard but she managed to organise these things at the worse time of her life. I'm doing my best. I'll get better at it with practice and because she left a detailed template. She inadvertently taught me what to do. I will get better at this. I know I will.

Time is on my side. 

Resolution

It's that time of year again. The time of year when the majority of us get together to see the New Year in. The time of year when we commit to making New Year Resolutions. Promises that we very rarely keep but it's okay as most of us made them after a few beers or glasses of wine. Or both. The time of year when we get together with friends and family and put all our issues, worries and cares aside and usher in a New Year, hopeful that things will change simply as it's a new year, even though the clock had basically changed at midnight to another day as it always does.

We did the very same last year. As the bells rang, Laura and myself grabbed the kids and had a family hug. We whispered that this year will be better. We had been through a lot and we were still here, stronger and better for it. I made my resolution to be less focused on work and more on family. It was basically the same promise that I had made to myself every year, but this time it was different I told myself. This time adversity had taught me that it was important to change things, that my priorities needed to be challenged and the barriers that prevented me from succeeding, overcome. Laura always told me that only I could do it, that I can't sit about waiting on change to happen to me, it was up to me to make those changes happen. Unfortunately, 27 days later, before I had the chance to action my resolution, fate took matters into its own hands. 

So when it nears the bells and you are thinking about your resolution, look at those around you. Take a second to enjoy the feeling that you have at this time of year. That love. That happiness. That hopefulness that a year new brings. Look at your family and friends. Look how happy they are. Take in the joy in their faces. It's the kind of joy generally only reserved for weddings and the birth of children. Don't make your promises lightly. Change one thing for the better. Don't sleep on the life that you have. Exercise your right to show your love and to show your appreciation of all that you have that is precious to you. Make it weird if you so desire but make it happen and make it happen regularly. Tap into that New Year feeling and bring it to as many days as you can. And for those spending New Year on your own? Know that you are loved. Love is infinite. A precious commodity that we have a boundless amount of. You aren't alone, you are just on your own for now. Feel the love of those both here and gone and raise a glass. Life is short, unpredictable and precious. You don't need me to tell you this, however you may need me to remind you. And I will remind you. Don't have regrets. Don't wait until it's too late. I did.

Love is never ending. Love will prevail.

Have a happier New Year. 

Dear Laura

Dear Laura,

It's nearly Christmas, your favourite time of the year. The time of the year when your organisational skills really shone through. You did everything. Absolutely everything. I just nodded approval and said yes when I had to.

So with that in mind, things are going okay. I've tried to be as organised as you and I genuinely believe/hope you'll think I've done a decent job. I've tried to keep up with your little traditions; Christmas movie nights with picky tea and hot chocolate, teepees in the living room, Fenwicks window (which wasn't that great), matching pyjamas, secret Santa gifts done, cards done by them for their classmates, personalised letters from Santa, panto and all that. The one thing I haven't done, much to Hallie's consternation, is the Elf On The Shelf. I simply don't have time and between you and me, I'm secretly glad. It was a pain having to do it every night in previous years and with them still in our bed it would have been too difficult to sneak downstairs every night. Instead they got a letter from Santa telling them that they didn't need the elf due to them being brave all year, so therefore they were already on the Good List. I backed this up with a couple of early gifts. It generally worked, although Hallie still says she misses Elfie every so often. 

I've had a proper go at getting the presents and I've wrapped them all up too. I must remember give myself more time to do that next year as I woefully underestimated how long it would take. When I got to the forth hour of wrapping, some gifts where more sellotape than paper and my old knees were audibly groaning (or was that me) with kneeling on the living room floor, ankle deep in discarded off cuts of paper. It'll also be strange this year as I'll know what they are getting. Sometimes I used to get as much of a surprise as they did when they opened their presents! 

I have also managed to keep Lapland a secret! I know, go me. I can't wait to see their faces. I know when you booked it, it was a massive thing for you and I wish more than anything that you were here to experience it. I've planned a little reveal the night before with a letter from Santa and an invite to come to Lapland to see him. It'll be amazing and the perfect start to their Christmas. 

Also, I know for sure you'll appreciate this, I've already booked holidays for next year! I'm taking them to Butlins at Easter break and we're going to Majorca during the summer holidays. We're going to the resort you wanted to go to apparently. I chose it before I realised that it was one that you had earmarked. The Signs were too strong to ignore. It'll be a challenge just the three of us but I'm sure we'll be okay. So yes, booked holidays, in December. I'm getting the hang of it!

The kids are doing okay. Hallie is still driving me bonkers on occasion but she gives me a drawing everyday telling me I'm the best and that she loves me. The festive season has resulted in her creativity going into overdrive. She's made crackers with gifts and jokes in (she asked Alexa for the jokes, not me you'll be glad to hear), she's made Santa, reindeers, Christmas trees etc out of airclay and Aquabeads and an endless stream of cards and drawings. Her drawings still include you of course. I'm particularly fond of a Christmas themed one of us where I was wearing some sort of top hat and you and I are eating a large ice cream cone. Aden is doing fine too. His hair is growing which I quite like. Not crazy long, more of a 90s feel to it! He spends a lot of time on screen, possibly too much but I don't think it's having a detrimental effect on him. It's easy to worry in regard to this but then I see how much of a lovely young man he is becoming. He is very considerate and polite and has a quiet assurance about him which I am very proud of. Of course there are occasions when it's not all good times. Times when, in essence, they are being children and testing the boundaries. I must admit I have lost my temper with them more than a few times, then felt that guilty way afterwards. I try not to hang on to my annoyance like I used to and I now shake it off quicker than before. I realised I was hanging onto my disappointment to teach them a lesson, that bad behaviour has consequences, but I've realised that it's a lesson that can be talked about instead of the counterproductive silent treatment. So we move on and talk about it. I'm learning. Most of the time it's me saying sorry, that it's difficult trying to be both you and me, and we hug it out. Aden has even said "I'm sorry" on occasion. Remember when he was little he wouldn't say it, even though we knew he wanted to? Well, he does now. So, we are doing okay. They are also doing well at school and the staff at school are being everything we had hoped they'd be. And more.

Me? I'm okay too. Some days are harder than others and on occasion I allow myself a little moment to miss you more. I guess I still bottle it up. As we approach Christmas, I feel I have regressed back to last summer, when I kept myself busy so I didn't have to think about how much I miss you. Last Christmas was our last Christmas and that's hard to think about, so I don't. Or I try not to. There have been many First Of Many Firsts but I guess this is the First Of Many Major Firsts. When the diagnosis was confirmed we did hope we'd get another Christmas, but that wasn't to be. So here we are. The first one without you. I'll set a place at the table for you. It will be there all day. Your place. Here. At home. With us.

Merry Christmas.

We love and miss you.

Me and the kids x