The worst day of my life

Now, you would think that it would be the day Isi died. I mean, that's the obvious answer, right? I'm not so sure. When Isi died there was so much support around us, holding us up, keeping us going. Steve comes from a large family and also has a wide circle of friends, all of who rallied round in their own ways, making their way over to us in France for the funeral, listening to us for hours if we needed to talk, sharing companionable silences when there were no words, helping with practical arrangements. And then there were the cards and letters from those who couldn't make it over and all the online condolence messages. The children from her school who sent pictures and the parents who I had never met with their letters about my daughter. And then, there was so much activity - funeral arrangements to be made, people to see, our other two daughters to be looked after, places to go and decisions to be made. It felt like we were near the edge of a cliff, but there were so many people in front of us that we couldn't really see it or focus on how far down it dropped.

Now, there are days like today. Just ordinary days, no special occasions or date to commemorate. The crowds of people have all gone. There's nothing in particular to do. Today it has really hit me that she is not here. Not only is she not here, she will never be here, ever, ever again. I can see the edge of the cliff now that there are no other people in the way and the Grand Canyon has nothing on this baby! And I think this is worse because there is no end in sight. Isi was ill for most of her all too short life but there were always goals in her treatment, progress that could be made, things that could be done. Now, there's just this bottomless pit. How does this nothingness, this emptiness get batter? I don't know. I'm not sure it ever will, I just know I have to keep going.

The worst thing that has happened in my life is Isi's death. The worst day of my life, well the jury's still out ion that.

So here's my plan - every time I post I will take one of the photos we have of Isi and write something about it. If I have no photo but a memory then I will write that. She is the void in my life and I will attempt to fill it a little with memories and thoughts of her. It won't be the same, but maybe it will help a little.

If anyone reads this then thank you, if not then it doesn't matter. The sprint is over - the marathon begins!

Take care.

Rebecca