Easter Fire

Easter.

Three years later and the approach of Easter is burning a hole through me. Each day draws me closer to the fire.

I don't even remember our first Easter after he left. I don't remember much of that first year other than that of being held in a space where my pain was manageable and kept in a bubble.

I think from the second year the bubble sprouts a slow leak and the pain begins to ooze out.... And frankly this third year is set to be a DOOZY.

The unpleasant part of it is that I am now pretty much alone in it all. By society's laws I am now over the worst and moving on with my life.

 "Mel - you have a new life, new man, new kids and even a new job - it's time to let the past rest and focus on the future - be grateful for the years you had!"

Yes. All true. Although rather bloody idealistic FFS. 

But I try. God knows I try. But there are times when I just cannot be all grateful and amazing and thankful and brave. And Easter is one of those times.

Good Friday : we ran the Two Oceans fun runs with our kids. Little did we know that would be our last family outing. The last gasp of normal happiness before the grey seeped into our bones forever.

Easter Saturday: He gave me a lift to race the Two Oceans half - he felt a bit sick so opted out.

Easter Sunday: Family lunch at my mom. Russ becomes violently ill.

Easter Monday : He is hospitalised and diagnosed. 

Easter feels like death. 

Even Jesus probably agrees with me.