That's what everyone told me, at the start. I didn't believe them, how could enough time ever pass to heal this wound? I still don't agree with that trite statement, the thing everyone says when there's nothing else to say, the thing that comforts the comforter, not the sufferer.
Well, it's been a year, almost. Two weeks today Robert will be (should be) one. And I'm having a major meltdown at work. After a few tears last night I thought today was going to be better...no. I am so angry, and sad, and I just want to scream at the injustice of this life, again. I'm supposed to be planning a party, joint for my 30th and Robert's 1st maybe, all the family together, making happy memories, photos, cake, candles.....instead, I am running away to Italy to hide from my birthday and distract me from his. Bertie will get his candles, at his grave, not on his cake.
So, that's the "healing" time has given me. I no longer feel the raw, uncomprehending, can't get out of bed today pain that I did then. But I still feel empty, lost, confused, sad, angry, bitter, resentful, tired of life. Tired of this life. My arms are still empty, my heart is still shattered, my son is still gone. Time. How much time will fix that? How many sticking plasters in the form of positive thinking, or counselling, or tablets, or whatever I decide to try next are ever going to take this pain away? None is the answer. They might distract me for a bit, cheer me up for a bit, but it never lasts, it just buries the pain a bit deeper for a while. How can I fix the unfixable?
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