I had one of those sun moments yesterday when I was driving. I turned the corner, and there is was. Huge. Glaring. And full of energy that I did not know before my son died.
I am a hazard on the roads when I find this kind of sun. I can't stop looking, trying to find something in it, and that means my attention to other drivers is severely diminished. I just want to look and look. I want to look and use it as a conduit of love to him, on the other side.
I hope he is happy over there. Playing with his friends. Not scared. Safe in the knowledge that we love him.
I know the pain won't always feel this raw. I know that when we make more beautiful children, I will be able to look at them, and thank Bear. Because they wouldn't be here if all of this hadn't happened. If he hadn't died, and made space for their arrival.
Sometimes, I look forward to a time when I will see them grow. It will give me a closeness to Bear.
They will all be siblings and hopefully, I will recognise some of his beauty in them. And see it alive and laughing.
On other occasions, I think about families and I know the differences from one brother to another.
It makes me so sad.
Because, as much as I will know more about Bear when brothers and sisters come along, there is so much that died with him. So much potential, so many facial expressions, and characteristics that were only his.
It is such a big thing, when your child dies. Especially, when you didn't have a single moment to meet their eyes and give them milk and carry them in your arms.
I know I am looking stronger. But inside, I am still broken glass.