This week I attended my cousin’s wedding and it really was a fantastic occasion. I am so glad that I went along and got to spend time with family and loved ones and share in the fun and frolics of the day. When I initially received the invitation I dismissed it completely. I wasn’t going to go. It didn’t interest me in the slightest. But, largely due to my partner’s excitement, I ended up changing my mind – and I’m so delighted I did.

I met family and relatives that I hadn’t seen in over twelve years and others who I’d never met at all. It was just such a great experience to share a room and a special occasion with all my immediate and extended family around me.
But, as will always be the case from now on, I struggled at times. There is no doubt that I thoroughly enjoyed myself and overall it was a complete success but it was not without the pain that forever shadows my life. Weddings above all other ceremonies are such an intrinsically family-based celebration. They are an all inclusive coming together of an entire span of families: from the newest littlest ones to the great family elders. As occasions go, they are unique in how they reach out to the furthest corners of a family to coalesce everyone in celebration of ‘being a family’ in itself.

But that is precisely why there is pain. When you are amongst your family, united in celebration and joy, it is simultaneously the perfect backdrop for the most intense sense of loss. I revelled in the joy of being surrounded by family, but then came the pangs of sorrow. I watched little children – nieces, nephews – run and slide across floors and hide under tables. I listened to their giggles, watched their smiles and witnessed the energy and happiness which they wore on their sleeves. I looked at all this, but only saw what was not there: My Craig.

I felt the familiar churning sickness within as I longed for his presence. My stomach burned as the cruelty of fate’s hand, evident in his absence, stoked the embers of grief yet again. What could have been; what should have been tore at my innards and it was all that I could do to suppress it.

But I’ve learned to do this well. It’s a skill I wish I didn’t need. I think, I remember, I cry and I let go. This is my future in all things. This is the chain I will always carry.

But like I said I did enjoy myself, despite the torment – this time. It doesn’t always go like that, and it won’t always go that way. Just got to take each day as it is I suppose . . .