Matilda died just as summer was starting. Summer has always been my favourite time of year. I like the heat, all the barbies and socialising, and drinking wine in the sun. The summer before this one was particularly good - it was leading up to my wedding so it was filled with lots of get togethers, hens parties, and finished with our wedding. I'd imagined this summer would've been filled with the wonder and life-changes a new baby brings. Instead it was swallowed by grief. I spent most of it inside with this laptop, books on baby loss, and lots of DVDs. The bright endless sun seemed like a kick in the face to my grief.
For the last week it has rained and rained. That's unusual here - it doesn't really rain for days on end ever. But it did and finally the weather seemed in sync with my mood - the logical thing for everyone to do was just say inside and close to home. Not just me.
Now the rain has stopped and the sun is back. I've been hanging out washing but there's that definite change in the air. It's no longer summer. And it makes me sad how far away I'm getting from those days when Matilda was here. In the beginning, I was desperate for time to pass, just clinging to the fact that surely time would help dull that sharp, raw, almost physical pain I felt all the time. And it has. But it's also taking me further away from her.