Christmas Day was yesterday.
When my brother asked me, at the end of the day, if I'd had a good day, I said 95% yes. 2% utterly diabolical. 3% was, I'm afraid, caused by the stuffing which had an adverse effect on the male members of the household, which was presented in utter stinkiness.
2% was the shaking sobs from my son at 4 in the morning, wanting Rich home so badly he was physically hurting. It was the silent tears dripping on baby Lilly when I changed her and cuddled her to sleep. It was the absence of Santa hats, the missing peals of laughter, the missing bag of lovely things on the end of my bed. In the darkness I held the child close, told him it wasn't our fault, we didn't choose this, there was a bigger picture that we didn't know. I told him accidents happen, and we are doing really well. That Rich didn't choose to hurt us like this, by separating him and the AC, that he was probably just as sad he couldn't be with us. I rocked him back to sleep, like a little one.
95% was watching the children unwrap and play with presents they loved. AC is still on his Tony Hawks board, and loving it. I've been told I'm the best Mummy, the coolest Mummy, that no one else could ever get him a present as great as that. Ever. My brother and he took turns yesterday, AC and I have taken turns today. Life is good. It was also the massive lunch that Fran cooked, the playing and the joking around the table, the extra sprouts she had done for Rich without even thinking about it, the pulling crackers and telling terrible jokes. The "Oh My WORD!" picture of my in my new jumper. It's a UK12. In the pictures, I look about a UK 26. No kidding. Not flattering lol! (And as a side note, and completely irrelevant, I now have new and very comfortable size 12 trousers and several compliments about my trimness. Putting the effort in is working for me! Not that I am shallow enough to care...... ;-) ) It was changing the baby and having cuddles and seeing her laughter at the same old games I played with the AC. It was texts from several Armourers and others to see if we were doing ok, phonecalls from P+C, from Caroline, from Andy, to see if we were ok. It was hugs and love and care from my family towards us.
It was a good day.
We came back here late, and the child was put to bed asleep. I lay in bed, thinking about Rich, and about how the Year of Firsts is ticking along. We worked through the Year of Firsts after BG went to the States. Rich and I got though that together. He didn't let it damage him, and I won't let his death damage us. What kind of tribute would that be to an amazingly strong, brave and wonderful man, who loves me, loves AC and BG, put our needs before his own, and cherished every single day?