For anyone who’s lost a child, it is nearly impossible to fathom that life moves forward. It’s not plausible that daily routines and events can continue on without our son or daughter. But the world does move forward; it does continue on and inevitably we are faced with moving with it.

How time feels like it moves so slowly and yet is gone so quickly.

Our daughter is dead and we all we hear is “merry Christmas” or “enjoy the holidays” or “the new year will be better”. ‘Tis the season to be jolly does not compute. Merry and bright are the opposite descriptions of how we really feel. Holly, jolly, fa, la, la, la, la. Blah.

It’s school vacation week again, a time of the school season I used to really love because I could just hang out with my daughters. But now I dread it.

We are working so hard to manage our emotions that our bodies suffer. The physical elements of grief are serious and sneak up on us without our knowledge because we are so mentally consumed in our heartache. It is so important that we be aware that grief can make us sick.

When Aine died we heard a new sound. Emptiness.

I have seen some remarkable children since my daughter's death. Her 8 and 9 year old friends and classmates are a constant amazement to me in how they are able to process grief and move forward with positive thoughts and good, kind memories of things they did with their friend.

We’ve been living under a cloak of shock. The cloak is velvety and soft, almost comforting, but very heavy and burdensome and at times feels like it might cover me up. Still, under it is a better place than being without it altogether.

We all have experiences in our lives that have caused us to feel regret. Since our daughter died, the feeling of regret will haunt us forever.

Doing things after your child dies is liking eating a meal that has no flavor.