Today we went to church to witness the baptism of one of the children of a couple in our cell (Bible study/ fellowship) group. It was a lovely occasion, with 5 other children being baptised and one being dedicated. The kids ranged in age from babe-in-arms to a 4 yr old. All was well, and Nellie was being an angel. The service was lovely, and we were all enjoying ourselves.
Then it dawned on me that, had Zoe lived, we would have been up there, having her baptised too. I couldn't hold back the tears and had to run to the bathroom.
It never ceases to amaze me how suddenly, and without warning, the grief surfaces. It has left me feeling low all afternoon - everything just feels like too much effort. I had to drag myself out to visit show houses for a couple of hours, but I felt better for doing it. Having something external and tangible to think about, something that also poses a problem to be solved without requiring too much intellectual input (like trying to imagine us in a particular house), is always helpful. Graeme has been a star, as always, managing Janel and the house when I fall apart. What would I do without him?
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