As this post goes live I’m packing up to go on holiday. I should be excited but I’m scared stiff. The last two years I have booked to go camping with a great group of people from a charity called Special Kids in The UK but besides the booking I never actually made it to the campsite.
Why you may ask? It’s simple the last time we went camping with this group I had a blonde haired Tinkerbell escaping my tent. Yes Livvy was with us still.
The concept of going to the camp without her makes me actually feel ill with nerves.
I don’t know why it’s so bad, I’ve camped since Livvy’s death. I’ve actually met some of the group too. So why is the concept of this camp trip leaving me filled with fear.
I have no answers grief is a funny thing. One day I understand the next I don’t.
Memories are both a wonderful and painful reminder.
I know I’m going to be surrounded by people who care who understand. Yet I’m still scared of holding my emotions in check. I confess I’ve been struggling lately.
Who said time makes it easier spoke a complete load of tosh. Each day that passes Is a day without my darling daughter and I hate it with a vengeance.
I’m sure my holiday will be great. I’m sure I will make some wonderful new memories with my girls. But a piece of me will always be missing, a part of my heart is in heaven. Never to be complete until I get to hold my daughter in my arms again.