I dreamt about Bear last night.
It was the first time that he has properly been in my dreams and it was gorgeous. He was there, in my arms, and I knew that there something was different about him. It wasn't all fireworks and sunshine, there was something slower, more precious about my boy and he needed his Mummy.
Yes I know, this all makes me sound a teeny bit crazy.
I have such vivid dreams anyway - I always have done - so it was cruel, each morning, when I woke and remembered all these fanciful journeys my mind had taken, none of which involved Bear. Now though, I know he can come and go as he pleases and I hope he makes many return visits. Because my heart feels a little lighter knowing that on some level, I carried him last night.
Anyway, we are back from our holiday and hopefully we have risen a bit, from the pit of before. I know that my sadness will always be with me. Having those days on the slopes though, when we laughed a bit, and hugged and kissed, made me realise that the old me is in here too. She isn't ready for a big Welcome Home banner yet, but slowly, over time, she will reemerge, I think. As a caveat, I know the old me will never actually come back. But the new old me, hopefully, won't be too different from the outside looking in. Apart from unexpected bursts of tears that I can never predict. Although which, I can now recognise as they start forming and swirling somewhere inside my chest.