As a mother, I maintained a high level of alert for my children, ever watchful for signs of impending disaster. With Fred there was an extra level of peril because, like a velociraptor, he was always testing the fences looking for weak points. Like that time he got up early and made a den byContinue reading “Anything but cancer – would you know what to look for in your child?”
It has been one year and two months since Fred died, and it is my second #NationalBereavedParentsDay. That seems an extraordinary thing to write, but there it is. In that time, I have relied on the strength and grace of those that were bereaved before me, and have seen others follow. I have also seenContinue reading “Oven Gloves – Advice for the newly bereaved and those who love them”
I’m running the Great North Run. It’s 13 bloody miles! That is considerably further than I’ve ever run before and considerably further than I can run at the moment. The past few years have not been kind to my body. Actually the months of sitting in hospitals weren’t too bad – I got my stepsContinue reading “Looking for a better way to get up out of bed: The Great North Run”
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When crisis hits, people want to be helpful but don’t know what to do. It’s often best to ask someone who does.
And so now, what of the snow? We awake to see the ground covered and the flakes still falling. It’s crisp layer only seems to amplify the silence in the house, a soft blanket of sadness.
Christmas is so often about the gaps, the ones we try and mask with tinsel and hope that the dim light of the tree means we can’t see too clearly what is missing: the people we have lost, the life that we ordered.
I’ve known so many Christmas Carols, from The Muppets to Owen Meany.
“Which ghost are you?
This is the place that you have always known, this village, these woods. They remain the same and yet they are forever changed, now you’re not here to sculpt them. The shop on the corner is still there, but now Liz looks a bit scared when I walk in. The paperboys come to return theirContinue reading “Bluebells”
You never think it will happen to your family until it does.
Suddenly we were locked down. Our holiday was cancelled, Fred’s central line meant he could no longer go swimming. We were not allowed to travel anywhere more than 30 minutes from our hospital. I carried a thermometer in my handbag to check for temperatures.