Yesterday

Yesterday morning I awoke feeling strangely calm. I thought I would wake up weeping. In fact I haven't slept much at all for the last three nights so I woke up groggily, at 9:45, having fallen asleep again at 8ish, demanding tea. Ray watched me, wondering. Hysterics (more of)? Silent tears (more of)? Giant snotty sobs (even more of)?

No, the tears started when I started reading emails and the comments on yesterday's blog and then they came and went for the rest of the day. Thank you all for helping me release the inevitable flood. Crying for George, crying for me, crying for Ray, crying for our relationship that has this huge heap of sad right in the middle of fields and fields of happiness and then late yesterday afternoon, crying for the womb that seemed to remember and started cramping even worse than the previous four pre-menstrual days. "That's mean" said Ray and I couldn't argue with that.

We didn't go to George's wood yesterday. It was grey, windy and rainy and I didn't want to see it like that again. I want to go there in the sun and I don't want to make a ritual out of it, so that the one year on the 20th October when we can't be there for whatever reason, the sky won't fall down. I think we'll go soon though. I want to collect some of the earth from that place and mix it in a little corner with the earth from this place and fill that corner with forget-me-nots. We have a big project going on in our garden (I'll post photos soon) which has involved much moving of earth (by Ray), dry stone walling (by Ray), path making (by Ray) and planning and directing (by me). I can't wait to start planting it with flowers, forget-me-nots, heartsease, chamomile, violas, bluebells, and many more. Yesterday afternoon we worked in the garden for a while and then drove up onto the moors to watch the sunset.


On the 19th I finished six pieces of jewellery for my shop and yet another for myself. Birthstones this time; a pearl for June, the month he was conceived, opal for October, the month of his loss, and aquamarine for March, the month he was due to be born. I really must stop making things for myself, there's only so much stuff I can hang around my neck.


I can't thank all of you enough for the kind words and mentions in your own blogs. You are wonderful. You are marvellous. You keep me going. Who remembered out here? Me, Ray and although my Mum was a day early, she remembered too. That's it. My son's life was too little, too tiny, too invisible, too insignificant for people out here to remember. But as Danielle wrote to me, George has changed the world. My world is significantly different because he was here. Because of him I have friends all over the world who care, who cheer us on, who remember. Thank you. THANK YOU.