When William died I went home from the hospital and walked around and around my kitchen island.

I knew that I needed to make the kids lunch but for the life of me I couldn’t do it, all I could  muster was the wandering. I finally came to sit in front of my computer where I watched a slideshow of photos, taken over the course of his five days of life and all of the photos of the day he died.

I watched them until my eyes were swollen shut with tears.

It was the 7th.

Maddie earned her wings on the 7th too.

It was Easter and the funeral of our small boy could not be organised until the 14th

Maddie’s parents will farewell their beautiful girl on the 14th too

and I can’t stop thinking about her.

I can’t stop thinking about how her parents will wander and cry and how their hearts are broken

and how, when a child dies, it changes who you are.

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I remember random things about that day.

I remember that it was hot and the sky was a deep blue, that there were no clouds, that my stockings made me feel like my skin couldn’t breathe.

I remember that my father wore a yellow tie and that one of the school mums (who I hardly knew) was wearing a black dress, with deep red roses on it and that she grabbed my hand and held it tightly as I walked down the isle.

I remember the long row of cars up and down both sides of the road and the people, spilling out from the tiny church entrance. I couldn’t believe that all of those people had come for us.

The girls sang the words to all of the songs that we had chosen and David knelt on one knee before the tiny blue coffin.

At the cemetary, Mal picked up the white, wooden marker cross and waved it in the air.

“Ahoy, it’s a pirate sword!”

he cried and I remember how good the laughter felt and how much it eased the tension.

I wondered if I would ever feel normal again.

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The kids all went back to school and David went back to work and I was left with leaking breasts and my darkest thoughts.

I sat alot.

I cried alot more.

I did things that were weird to anyone who had never lost a baby, even for some that had.

William was 8 lbs and 4 oz born ( about 3.8 kg) and so I found a bag of sugar that weighed in as close to that as possible

and I carried it around.

It must have been the strangest sight

but I just needed to feel the weight of him.

The memory of his smell was fading and my mind could not remember his features so his weight seemed something obtainable, tangible.

I knew it was strange but it helped.

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My blog is purple today for Maddie.

It’s all I can do.

I am just a faceless blogger but to honour her seems right.

My thoughts are with her parents.

My heart is five years heavy for my son and  with memories long passed.

Grief is a never ending journey, it seems.