Comments 22

One Year On…

10364056_10152023112966512_1808747011739674804_nMy son has been dead for a year.

How did we manage to survive the initial emotional Hiroshima?

How did we remember to breathe when the pain was stronger than the desire to stay alive?

How did we live beyond the very traumatic firsts: the first night without our boy, the first week, the first month?

And now, the first year.

I don’t know.

I still don’t know.

All I know is that even if it sounds like an eternity, this year has changed nothing when it comes to our longing for a different ending and to our emotional pain.

We still think of Georgie every day.

We still miss his presence.

We still wonder how it would have been to be four, everywhere we go. For pizza, to the beach, on weekend trips.

We still feel his physical absence, even now, after a year.

We miss having another car seat at the back.

We miss having another mouth to feed.

We miss buying blue swimming trunks and shark t-shirts.

We miss seeing Emma learning to share and love and protect her younger sibling.

We miss the joy we would have felt.

We miss the normality we feel we were so entitled to, so many other families are!

We claw our way out of the dark every single day.

We fight to stay alive, to want to be alive, to give meaning to our existence.

Nothing is serene anymore.

Nothing is a given.

It is all conscious choice.

And deciding to use every breath we take and every word we utter meaningfully.

It is careful living.

It is painful living.

It is living with the awareness of human fragility and pain and death.

Sweet boy, are you happy where you are?

Are you proud of us and the way we continue to live here, despite the strong magnetic pull we feel to come and join you in the peace and the quiet?

Can you feel our love and determination to make your existence known?

Can you feel our fierce desire to honour your sweet spirit and joyfulness?

Can you feel our hearts still attached to yours, for ever and ever?

Can you still feel our deep, deep love for you?

We love you.

Mummy, daddy and Emma.

This entry was posted in: Parenting


Mum of one beautiful girl on earth and one sweet baby boy in heaven. Daughter of a wonderful woman. Wife of a very entrepreneurial man.


  1. Oh Oana, such a beautiful, heart-wrenching post. I hope one day soon your family may find joy amongst the sadness. xox

  2. Sending much love. I have no idea how you get through each day but I know that he will be watching over you all and hoping that you continue to enjoy and live a long full life. He was such a beautiful baby xx

  3. Oana… there are no words I can write. A very heartfelt post, for your beautiful son. Sending you all my love xxxx

  4. I have no idea what to say, I am crying reading your post. Life isn’t fair Georgie will forever be in your hearts and lives through you. He will never be forgotten by you or our blogging community ((hugs))

  5. Sending you love today and every day. I have no words, but didn’t want to read and run, My niece lost her son 5 years ago aged 6 months and I don’t think anyone who hasn’t be through it can truly understand the pain and heartache

  6. I have no words hunnie, I am sorry for your loss, for your husbands loss and for Emma x

  7. I just wanted to let you know I am thinking of you. There really are no words, no words at all. Much love x

  8. I have no words that will offer you comfort but my heart aches for you in your tremendous grief. I hope that one day you will find peace x

  9. Sending so much love to you all. I suspect your beautiful boy is constantly with you and feels all the things you wonder he does. Xx

  10. Oh sending big love to you – what a beautifully written post, and what a gorgeous little boy. Have often thought of you and your family over this past year xx

  11. This brought tears to my eyes. I feel for you, really feel for you. I send your family as much strength as I can xx

  12. I cannot imagine how hard this must be for you and your family. Sending you love and strength x

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