1 Year

Well, I won’t lie, it was a really tough day.

In all fairness it was always going to be.

We all feel the pain of the last year and no matter how hard you try to forget the really bad moments, they still appear in your mind like an old fashioned showreel.

I forced myself out of bed and after a long, hard cry we ventured out of the flat to spend the day at the beach. It was a day Lennon truly would of enjoyed. The girls spent most of the day in the sea and building sand turtles fittingly named ‘Len’ and ‘Len Len’ after their brother.

In the evening we went out for a meal and sat by the harbour, eating ice creams and reminiscing about all the good times we shared in Torquay as a family of five.

As the day went on everyone’s mood slowly improved – helped somewhat by the sand, sea and sun. And the memories of the last time we were all together in Torquay – Lennon shrieking and arm flapping with delight whilst watching the fairground rides, and how thrilled he was being pushed out to sea in his dinghy. He loved the water and it seemed most appropriate that we spent the day by the sea.

We did struggle to decide what to do. People asked us what would we do on the anniversary of Lennon’s death?

To me, anniversaries mark happy days. Days to remember positive life events: a wedding anniversary for instance.

A celebration.

The day Lennon died is not a day to celebrate. August the 3rd will remain the saddest, most traumatic day of my life and I do not wish to celebrate the day my brave little soldier died.

If I could of slept through that day, I would of.

Ian has been amazing since we arrived. He has been cooking, making sure we are all fed and taken over the responsibility of the girls. I have barely lifted a finger.

It’s just what I needed. I don’t have enough energy or gumption to organise a p@£s up in a brewery at the moment.

Everything feels numb.

I didn’t need to ask him to take over, he simply did.

It’s hard to say whole year has passed, the words get stuck in my throat. Mainly because it doesn’t seem possible that my darling boy has been gone for 366 days now.

The fog of grief is slowly lifting, but the pain is still there. A constant reminder of the missing piece to my jigsaw.

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