Ready, set

It is the double-birthday eve and a sense of calm has settled in, despite the fact two huge days loom before me. I spent most of this week getting the sads out, and I think I'm mostly done now. I think.

Her death is the soundtrack of my life. Sometimes I need to put it on mute, in order to get asses wiped, sandwiches made, stories read and toy train tracks built. Most of the time though, it is playing gently in the background. The tunes are familiar and I can hum along all day, moving with the rhythm of my grief. Weeks like this however, the volume is blaring and the sound is so intense, that it is offensive to all the senses, and the senses of everyone around me. I'm surprised the neighbours don't complain.

I do the best I can, and that's not always satisfying to those around me. I stumble when I should be in a canter, I spit venom when I should be better at being all zen-like. But it is always hard to know how the days are going to play out and how loud I'm going to need that soundtrack and I must say, this year has taken me by surprise. Four years, an Olympic year, and a birthday party to plan for another little girl. Winter and August have kicked my ass and I'm so ready for this to all be over again for another year. I feel like I need the other 11 months of the year to recover and gear up to do it all again.

The cake is made, the party dress is ready and there is the realisation that when it is all done, we'll make a sombre trip to the cemetery the following day. I won't say it is ok, because it is not, but what else is there to do but to keep bloody well getting on with it, because in order to get past it all again we have to go through it.

So August 18/19, two days of the most intense feelings of bitter and sweetness I could possibly ever know, let's do this. Go.