Fifteen

My beautiful daughter would be 15 years old today but she has been dead for 432 weeks. As usual, I’ve taken flowers and a cupcake to the cemetery where she lies beneath the ground.

This time of the year is always difficult. We have managed to get through Christmas and New Year. And now it’s Clea’s birthday.

I haven’t been writing on this blog much over the past 12 months ago mainly because I can’t think of anything to say. I’m tired of myself and I assume that other people are tired of me as well. I had a pretty shit year last year and I’m hoping for some improvement this year. But without Clea, it feels like shit most of the time.

I have begun to realise that being sad most of the time and being very sad sometimes is not good for your piece of mind. It makes you lose confidence in yourself and lose confidence in other people.

Maybe I’ll start writing more about life itself not only about my grief for Clea as this would have been her life and the things I want to write about would have influenced the way she lived as they influence all of us.

Happy birthday Chickie. I love you. I miss you.

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About huntersoledad

Mother of three. Bereaved mother of one. Survivor and victim of 2009 Samoan tsunami. Could be if would be writer.
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2 Responses to Fifteen

  1. Nat says:

    I am not tired of you. Friends are there in the good times and the bad times. 432 weeks is an eternity without your precious girl. Her memory lives on and her friends have not forgotten her. Never apologise for being who you are. You are loved.

  2. Hugs to you on this, your beautiful and precious Clea’s birthday…

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