Seeing in the start of 2017 was difficult for me. Whilst there is no real difference between the final second of 2016 and the first of 2017, that moment signifies the passing of time; a pause in our lives where we stop to reflect on the continuum of time, reflect on the time that has been and the time that lies ahead.
For me, New Year is something else too. It is the ingrained symbolism that New Year holds that highlights the time it has been since Thomas left our lives; since we were able to touch him, see him, smell him and hear him. It highlights the distance that has driven between us.
Our lives have moved forward so much, but particularly in the past year, with Samuel settling into our family, Thomas' siblings growing up, the move of house and starting at a new school. It almost feels like we have left him behind.
However, very early on in 2017 I read that grief was in fact just love that has nowhere to go. There is no one to hug or kiss to offload the love I hold for Thomas. There is no one to feed or to entertain or to wipe away tears. There is no one to ferry to preschool or playgroups. There is no one to tickle or make giggle or dance with. And so, this love stays bottled up, releasing itself through my grief.
Since then, in the moments where grief descends, I have found myself reflecting on this and I have instantly been swept away with an overriding feeling of love. One of extreme power, an absolute fullness.
As humans, love is one of our most powerful and amazing feelings, it can lead us to do incredible things and make us feel invincible. It will put us on top of the world and put a smile on our faces that we can't hide. It brings us together and puts our worries to one side.
So that is suddenly what hits me. How can I not be happy when I get that moment? So thank you Thomas for coming into our lives and filling our hearts with so much love, three years ago today. Wishing you a very very happy birthday my son.
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