I didn't think August would matter too much this year. I'm as confused about this date as I was last year. What does 7th August even really mean anymore? I know it is a date that once upon a time held so much expectation. Now it is a date that belongs to Anabelle's memory.
Other than that I'm not sure why I allow it to affect me at all. Our whole focus, everything is June. Her remember day, her birthday. Its all June.
August was the month of broken expectations and broken dreams. There is that, but there is little else.
I think up until yesterday the 7th August was creeping up on me silently. I'd almost been feeling a little guilty that I was feeling ok. Isn't that ridiculous? Sometimes it is almost as if I feel I cannot allow myself to feel nothing. That somehow being 'ok' about something is betraying her.
Then I heard the news of little Poppy Barlow and I realised I'm not 'ok'. I felt teary for a family I've never met, knowing their pain only too well and it somehow feeling magnified for me because it was the night before Anabelle's would've been due date. If she'd made it that far.
I guess I underestimated the ongoing significance of this date. I don't know if it will feel significant forever or if eventually pass by unnoticed. Today I'm pondering how differently it all could've been if Augusts dreams had been realised.
Beautiful darling girl; we wish so hard you were here.
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