I though if I was leaving this blog then I should at least publish some of the posts that got left, waiting for when I could formulate better words to describe how I was feeling..but I'm not sure I ever will. How do you put into words a life missing? A void in your family that only you can see? Impossible to vocalise.
The temperature here has dropped several degrees, and the leaves have lost their grip on branches. Those that remain are taking on the hues of fire, so autumn is suddenly tangible again in England. The low sunlight is bringing back familiar memories, and suddenly I find my emotions are stirring.
It still hurts, even 3 years on.
I will never get used to the fact she isn't here.
I have taken on a begrudging acceptance of what happened 3 years ago. "It is what it is" is a sentence I hear myself saying these days. I have lost the desire to shock people with my tale, to force my tragedy down their throats then watch them as they uncomfortably shift from one foot to the other, wondering what to say.
These days I pity their discomfort, and so I often say nothing to refer to my dead daughter.
These busy days, full of toddler tantrums from my little diva who is now the most amazing personality, cheeky and mischevious but lovable and caring.
These days of being 28 weeks pregnant, carrying a new life - this time a boy - and being thankful that he is active and always making his presence known to me, unlike Georgia who seemed so quiet.
But no matter how busy my life is, more obvious to me is that these are the days three years ago when Lucy was still alive.
I miss her.
I'll always miss her.
I feel like I am moving on, and I don't like it.
I feel like Lucy is just a ghost on the edges of our family.
I imagine her Peter Pan-esque, returning to the window of her home only to see her parents that once lamented her daily, laughing and playing and shouting at their new children.
And she is forgotten.
It's a funny thing this grief business.