Day 443

George would have been bundled up in his cosy snowsuit and probably tottering between us, Mummy and Daddy with a hand each. We would have let him touch and taste the snow, lie down in it if he wanted. We would have made him a snowman to trample. He would have been rosy cheeked and happy. Definitely happy. It's my fantasy after all, we are always happy.

As it is we made a snowman for ourselves. You can see Ray to the right of this photo and the tracks are his rolling tracks.

He rolled his snowball around and around watched and emulated by several children. I rolled my snowball around a bit less and made the head. We laughed. We gave him a punk hairdo and a winking eye just to be "funky". And left him with the hope that we will see him again at the weekend when we take Ray's sister and niece to play.


After the snowman challenge we warmed ourselves in the car with hot tea and watched a young couple pull up in their car and unload their two young daughters, one just walking. They were all woefully under-dressed for snow. Mum had on her leggings and a "fashion" coat, and Dad's jeans barely covered his bum. I had on four top layers under my coat and two pairs of jeans and I was still chilly (yea I know, wimp). They spent less than 10 minutes in the snow before bundling their girls back into the car and driving off. I hadn't even begun my tea. We chuckled at their un-preparedness and tears quietly pricked my eyes. We could do better. Why not us? It's not bloody fair.

Reading blogs this morning I was struck by a few sentences in Leila's mommy's blog.

"sure, from their standpoint i am free now. i can do all the things that i would have had to give up had Leila not died."

There's no freedom in being parent to a dead baby. Whatever we do he is there, just out of sight, just out of reach. When we are adventuring I sometimes forget to stop myself before I mentally list the things we would need and the things we would do with our boy. Even now after 443 days without him. Maybe it's just the ex-nanny in me but it is exhausting at times and I would dearly like to. let. it. go. I'm trying.

I have spent this last year doing many things with the ghost of my son in my head and the back seat of our car.

I am frightened by the thought that we might not be able to have another child, that I am too old, and that I will only ever get to parent George's ghost. That can't be right.

I try to keep all of those thoughts at bay and live in the moment but I don't always succeed.

I am trying.

Always trying.