I’m finding it hard to write at the moment. In part, I feel obligated to as it keeps Eddie’s memory alive to those who read my blog. And writing has been cathartic for me. It has provided another outlet for my grief. It lets the steam out of the kettle, so to speak.
Annoyingly, words aren’t flowing as easily as they did in the early days and I’m not sure why. It’s not that I’m feeling any better or have made progress. My pain has not lessened, nor should it ever lessen.
But one thing I have noticed is this: I have more coping mechanisms these days. I still can’t see a future filled with happiness, despite my well intended friends telling me so. Yet somehow I am getting through the days…
And that feels like quite an achievement for now.
I hate days that exist because of commercial opportunism. Days that dictate how you should behave and feel because someone, somewhere, told you so. I have always hated valentines day for that reason. I hated it when I was single as it highlighted that I didn’t have a boyfriend and I hated it when I had a boyfriend as it felt fake and contrived. Why did we have to celebrate love on that particular day? It was an irritating excuse for restaurants and florists to unnecessarily hike up their prices. Bah humbug.
And now I hate mothers day and fathers day for those reasons. Why should one day honour parents? Every day was mothers day and fathers day for us. Every day was a celebration that we were parents to our darling boy, not one isolated day in the calendar year.
Just because it’s fathers day today doesn’t make our grief any worse, it’s just another reminder that Eddie should be here. Another reminder that Chris was the best daddy in the world. Ever.