That day has arrived

This morning neither of us really wanted to get up, knowing what's happening later.

We had it sprung on us last night that Chris's parents are bringing 2 extra relatives: so much for carefully planning transport.

And there's a certain amount of fear that something will go wrong with the preparations for the services. Once again, people here have been amazing with their kindness, as they've organised things like parking, stewards etc. to make sure that's taken care of. And all without fuss or hassle for us in any way. But we have planned out the order of service etc, and while we're sure it will be fine, those nerves sometimes just won't let go.

And underneath all this there's a feeling of finality. It's then end of that time of limbo, where Sarah's dead, but not completely gone. Not in any strange, spiritual, haunting sense - we know that's not real. But in the sense that our lives have been on hold, feeling like it's wrong to go on yet, to start doing things again, making changes to take account of her absence. We need that sense of closure as much as anyone, to allow us to re-become a whole family again.

Looking back, we're so glad that we were able to say goodbye to her in the car. I think that's one of the things that has shortened the grieving period. It's allowed us to let her go in our hearts and accept what has happened is real. We still find ourselves doing things to take account of her, whether it's the food we buy or how we plan time and transport, but each reminder stings less that it did a week ago. I know we're going to come through this at peace with each other and our memories.


To Sarah's school friends - we'd love to meet you after the celebration. Do come and say 'Hi' and hug us (if that's your thing). And tell us your names too - we might not remember them all, but at least we'll know some of you.