I started writing my first blog in September 2006. It helped me to put down in writing how I felt about the events, now 3 years ago next week, of that 9th month, and beyond.
It was called "The Diary of a Teapot" .
Eventually, I printed it all out, and deleted it. I wanted a change.
The next blog was called "Musings Of a Tea Drinker".
I began that one early last year and now it too, has changed into
"Is there anymore tea in that pot?"
This one is still going alongside the one I write in here..............
I was pleased to see that "Tractor Girl" has started one of her own. I have benefitted from writing. it has been cathartic and therapeutic, and keeps me connected in a small way to my son, Matt. He wrote his own blog under the title " Freelance Nerd"
He was still writing it the week that he died.
I had them all spread out this morning on the bed. I keep them in a folder, and it is surprising when I re read them, to actually find that I have become that bit stronger. It sometimes doesn't feel like that when a random event, another tragedy, or a vivid memory suddenly open up the underlying chasm of grief, which is always there, and always will be.
There have been good days to remember in the last couple of years.
The first year having passed in a blur.
Some downright bizarre!! Like the day I saw a bloke taking his pet python for a walk in Haslingden, where I had just stopped with my dad in the car, to buy some cake! I got out to talk to him and as I always have a camera
handy, the result is what you see!!
Looking at these photos makes me wonder how on earth we all coped......
I also write my own personal diaries. The red one is the first year and beyond and the blue one is still going but almost full up.
But I still need to write.
The fact that I don't write as often, shows that I have made progress in my journey.
People talk about " the beginning of the grief journey" and it is true.
We all of us who grieve, have to go on this road we never wanted, and we can only do this ourselves.
Oh yes, friends, amazing ones for us, strong family, random strangers, shared memories, all are vital. But our grief is our own. It is unique in the way we related to the one whom we loved who is no longer there. Each of us in a different way.
People who knew Matt each have their own unique memories, all different, some shared. For me he is totally irreplaceable.
So here I am again, another September, three years on, having met a man last weekend whose son was killed by a hit and run driver in Bristol in May He was 11 years old.
We were in church with Alan and Jenny in Bristol last Sunday morning when the young man spoke of his devastastation, and his need to try and rebuild his shattered family.
He talked of it being the worst ever dreadful time in his life, and how he never wanted to live through anything else like that again.
Our hearts went out to him.
I spoke with him afterwards, and he told me some of the story and said "I am only now, after 4 months beginning to feel a bit like I can survive".
He has plumbed the depths of his own personal Grand Canyon, and faith.
But he was pleased I had spoken to him, and it was one of those moments that are meant to happen.
So, the sun is shining, the wind blustery, one of my friends just phoned to see how I am, and ask me out for a meal next week................God moments...........to those who look for them.