I don’t go to Hampton Wick every month anymore. I don’t mention what the day represents for me anymore. I know he doesn’t.
However every night I smile at the scan photo, pride of place next to the picture of my daughter, my two, there, together, in the only way that is possible. God that used to rip my heart into a million pieces for the longest time.
I guess the antidepressants have helped numb that, too.
Most likely sounds so stupid to you all. I recently handed in my dissertation, and any online references that I sourced, I said I sourced them on ’23/09/17′. Just felt so right to in some way factor in baby, you know? After all I mentioned my daughter in the acknowledgements.
Ah, I don’t even know. Breaks my heart that I know his copy of the scan photo is most likely shoved in a drawer, fuck, probably never even was a copy, I wouldn’t put it past him to be so disgustingly low to lie about that either.
Anyway, brightest star, I may not vocalise it tomorrow, but I love you and still ache for you. I never realised the pain of missing a child you never got to meet.
Keep shining for me and your sister and we’ll keep shining for you.