My song is love unknown

Funny how life has a habit of creeping up on you when you least expect it.

March is always a tough month for me. As the days tick by, I keep a mental note of how many days there are until the 24th. I try really hard not to reflect on the events that took place during this month five years ago. I try hard to just keep busy.

Because I know that if I stop, if I pause, the walls will come crashing down again and I'll be useless to anyone for a while.

They say time is a healer. Since that fateful day, five years ago, I've maintained that's absolute trash. Time's not a healer - it just puts enough distance between you and the event that you can go on living and pretend it never happened.

God is the only healer, and what healing I've seen in myself as He has worked in me and with me! Yet the pain is still there. I still bear the scars, and like a physical wound when the weather changes, my metaphysical scars are aching. I can feel the dull ache, throbbing quietly, threatening to become full-blown, all-encompassing pain unless I do something.

But what can I do? Nothing will bring her back. There's no balm, or salve, or tonic, or potion, or pill one can take to heal this broken part of my heart. She's gone.

She would have been in Grade R this year. We'd have been teaching her Letterland, and how to hold a pen, how to ride a bike without training wheels....

Zoe, I miss you, my sweet darling. Your tree is flowering so beautifully this year - it's seemed so feeble in years gone by, but this year it seems to be pulling out all the stops. Maybe it's all the extra love and care I've been giving it; maybe it's a reminder to me that you are always with us. Your sister is so keen to celebrate your birthday - she wants to hold a party for you. How do I explain to her that others will see that as morbid? Your brother has at last learnt your name. I can't wait for him to be old enough to understand that you are his other big sister. He loves to take all our family photos and make me kiss them - kissing yours is always a little heart-sore moment for me. I hope, as Margie emailed me today, you'll be at the wedding on Sunday in some way. I hope your little ginger curls haven't turned too blonde. I know we'll be together again one day, but how I miss you now, sweetheart! How I miss you now. Happy birthday, my love!