Our Christmas was good. Our annual trip to the cemetery was hard. It is always so bloody cold out there in these winter months, especially on Christmas and C's birthday. It is inevitable. We can never stay long, and I always feel guilty. I also narrowly avoided falling totally apart, which I don't feel at liberty to do on BB's Christmas morning. In so many ways, parenting C has become something that is increasingly impossible.
I cannot comprehend that C's fifth birthday is approaching. It makes my mind reel.
So much of my day is consumed by the tasks of running our household and other mundane concerns. I just don't really know how C fits into all of that anymore. I think of him every day, but in passing. There is part of me that misses that old familiar ache of dwelling on the loss of him.