Six months ago today we held Kip for the last time.
It’s equal parts unreal, unbearable horror, distraction, desperate sadness and laughing about the wonderful things he did.
To be honest, it’s tough to know how to move forward. Life continues, the universe moves on with callous disregard for our loss. Dear friends gather close and share their memories of him. Sometimes we even talk about him as if he’s in the next room. Every night I put my hand on his Batman onesie and say goodnight, tell him I love him. I carry a gram of his ashes in a pendant round my neck. We are reminded that he lives on in our hearts. But…
But he’s still gone, still dead, still in a box under a tree in Shropshire.
He’s not where he should be. And as the reality of that hits (several times a day), our throats tighten, eyes tear up and the waves of sadness break over us.
If time is a healer, it takes more than six months…
We are so grateful for everything that continues in his name. The fundraising has been astonishing, and we know that so many lives will be saved because of it. It makes us giggle that people walk around with “Smelly Pants Wee” on their t-shirts.
But bloody hell we’d give everything up to have him here with us.
Thanks for supporting us on this horrible journey.