The 30th March, so Timehop reminded me today, was Freddie’s due date. Tomorrow is the day when I thought he was coming and curled up in bed. Perhaps I should have walked about, maybe he’d have made it then. The 1st April we sat at the table and played with Hama Beads. And then came the 2nd.
I don’t know what to do with this grief, this year. I’m tempted to ignore it, refuse to do all the traditions and memorials we (I) have created.
But then he will be lost.
So I suppose we will just keep on, keeping on.
I don’t know what to do with it this year. I just feel a bit lost, to be honest. Lost in a rather blank feeling of routine grief.
I wonder if that is normal?