But if I was to name a place where I prefer to grieve is the sacredness of my kitchen.
That is where we rocked him to sleep for three months.
That is where I cried out and knelt down and begged in prayer for my precious boy’s life.
That is where the most powerful battles were fought and the most painful fears materialised.
That is where I was supposed to see my baby crawl and pull himself up, walk, run, chase his sister..But all I see is the picture of him as a forever baby.
And that makes the space sacred. The daily challenge to balance my life between preserving memories and moving on with the mundane.