I have been doing well.
As well as a bereaved mother can be doing, shortly after such an important milestone, as Georgie’s death first anniversary.
But grief is a wheel which keeps turning and keeps mauling your soul, over and over and over again.
I know that talking about Georgie’s life helps other parents, finding themselves in the same horrific situation we have, a year and 30 days ago.
I have been receiving messages from people all over the world.
And Georgie’s story has been recently published by a women’s magazine in Romania, and I had the absolute honour to introduce my baby boy to a Romanian audience of caring new mothers.
But the crust has been ripped off the wounds, once again.
I have been waking up frequently during the night, tormented by the same questions.
Why my boy? Why like this? Why was he allowed to cross the threshold of existence only to know excruciating pain?
Why, Lord, oh, why?
I have learned to live with the pain.
I have learned to cope with the pain.
I have learned to manage my pain.
But at times, at times, I need to let the waves of sorrow wash over me.
I miss holding him.
I miss seeing him smile.
I miss who he would have been now, a toddler and a much loved son, brother, grandson and nephew.
I miss Georgie.
I miss my son.
I hope it reached you like beautiful butterflies, enticing you to run free in lavender fields and play without a care.
I hope it reached you like warm, summer rain drops which make you want to dance and giggle and shout for joy.
I miss you, son.
Now and forever more.