What were the main sources of comfort when we first became bereaved parents? Well, for me, in the first place, was and still, very much is, my faith. I have had many, many questions in regards to the “whys” of our loss. I still do. Why our baby? Why in this way? Why did most people suffering of cancer from our church got healed but our baby didn’t? Why this form of leukaemia and not a milder, curable one? Why was he only given five and a half months of life? Why us? I also have a lot of anger. I get angry with God over these unanswered questions. I then get angry with Emma and scream hurtful things I don’t mean at her. I get angry with Alex and withdraw into my hard, impenetrable shell. I get angry with people and their “blessings”, their “luck”, their “good fortune.” But despite it all, I haven’t lost my belief in an after world. An after life. Where there is glory and singing and joy. And light. And warmth. And peace. And Jesus. And this is what has helped me carry on. Some days are better than others. But I can still stand because I know that this is not the end. In a way, Georgie’s death was only the beginning. The beginning of an eternally beautiful life for him, my baby boy. And the beginning of less selfish, less self-absorbed and more open to other people’s suffering and pain lives for us. So I hang on to it. And I carry on. With the hope of seeing my boy again one day. And with the comfort that the three of us left here are and will be in time, if not free of the pain of separation and grieving, at least free of the pain of hopelessness.