A year

It has been a year since I started this blog. A year today; Martin’s birthday.

It has been quite a year. I’m sitting in the garden, in the sunshine writing this blog piece, just as I did a year ago. There is sadness in my heart, overwhelming sadness. 

When I began this journey of blogging I found it quite consuming. I wanted to write and I needed to write. Everyday almost, I had something to say. A story to tell. And then, when my heart was broken last October I struggled to carry on telling my story. My story, my journey, it felt too sad. Reflecting only caused more hurt. The pain of a broken heart got tangled in old feelings of grief. I had no words left to write. I wanted to close the book. The words I had were no longer clear, there was no structure, my words stopped flowing. So I kept them, hidden and locked away. All jumbled up and buried. 

Today it is Martin’s birthday. I can’t even remember off the top of my head how old he would have been, 51? I don’t know. I can’t imagine him growing that old. But yet it is still incomprehensible that he never aged beyond his age on July 22nd 2014. How old was he when he died? 46? I don’t even know. How can I not know? In the space of five years I am already forgetting things. I don’t know how old he is or was or would be. I can’t hear his voice anymore. I can’t picture his face without looking at photographs, those still shots, flitting moments that I once captured. There’s not enough pictures anymore. There’s not enough memories  anymore... and it all just adds to my sadness.

I miss him. I think I miss him now more than I have ever missed him. I don’t know what it is that I miss, but I do. When I’m struggling I wish beyond words that he could tell me everything is ok, will always be ok. That I’m not failing as a mum with our children. I wish so much that I could hear those words spoken by him, in his voice, the voice I no longer remember.

It’s Martin’s birthday and I want to write again. I want to let the words out again, to stop them building up and to stop them dragging me down. I want to write and I want to shout. I want people to know that I am hurting, still hurting. That I will always be hurting. A broken heart and a traumatic past that never ever goes away. I want to pour out my feelings here, on my blog, my blog dedicated to Martin, about Martin and about me. About pain and strength. About joy and weakness. 

It is Martin’s birthday and time to open the book and start writing again.

What daddy did will always need to be spoken about.


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