I'm blue. So blue tonight.
The lead up to Thomas' birthday has been so good - easier than last year which was easier than the year before, and so on. In fact, it's been almost happy in a strange sort of way. There are nearly 1200 people signed up to do random acts of kindness on Monday - and more who are not part of the Facebook group who have said they'll participate too. I have our good deed arranged and ready to go. My Beloved has the day off and we have plans to spend it together. It's good. It's all good.
But I've been so focused on all the things being done in his memory - and excited by them too - that I kind of forgot that he's a memory.
And I miss him. Oh my God, I miss him. So much that every fibre of my being is screaming for him; searching blindly in the dark for the missing piece of my heart.
It is easier. It gets better. But it's still the hardest thing I do, breathing in and out every day while I miss my boy. While I watch My Beloved miss his son. While the world around us carries on as if this massive wound was never inflicted in the first place.
The bigger world, I mean. The world that never knew of him and still doesn't.
I'm okay. It's strange that my heart can open up and bleed itself dry, but somehow fill itself up again and keep on beating. Over and over again.
But it does.
It's just that it still takes some getting used to. Four years isn't enough time to become accustomed to such agony.