I'm sick and sad today. I have a cold - a real one this time, not allergies posing as a cold like last time - and I think not feeling well has drained my mental energy reserves.
I'm sad. I miss my boy.
I can't help anyone else today. Don't ask me to. I can't do it. I'm tired and sick and sad and I just don't have anything left in the tank.
Today I'd like to put my fist through a wall. The tenuous peace I can usually find seems to have escaped my grasp and I don't even know where to look for it.
Thomas would have been eight months old tomorrow.
I have absolutely no idea what an 8 month old baby does. I assume he'd be crawling, maybe even standing. I know he'd be smiling and laughing and trying to make the first recognizable words come out of that precious little mouth. He'd have outgrown all the little newborn clothes we had for him and he'd be wearing the little blue baseball outfit I bought last winter. He'd be getting spoiled by his grandparents and particularly by his Auntie K. And he'd be the centre of our world.
This is one of those days when I have absolutely no idea how I keep going on. I get up, I live, I work, I laugh, I love and I do it all without Thomas. I will always do it all without Thomas.
I have no idea how.