I’m running on a couple of hours broken sleep today, so let’s talk about yesterday instead. Yesterday had some remarkably good moments for me, so I shall remark on them. I had a short exchange with Daughter Number One’s best friend, which was fun, and lovely. It’s always lovely to touch base with him and yesterday was no exception.

I also exchanged a couple of emails with my oldest friend. By that I mean the one I’ve known the longest, and who has known me the longest. I’ve known him since he was a lad in short pants, from my previous life where I had a scholarship to a prestigious young people’s theatre school. He’s known me since I was about 15. So, before I was a mother to Daughter Number One. Before I was anyone’s wife. Before I was marooned in the wreckage of my existence. He knew me then.

So much of the last almost eight years – let’s not forget the looming anniversary, goodness knows I can’t – has been about trying to find out who the hell I am. When your life has been blown to smithereens and taken you with it there’s not much left to hang your identity on. Daughter Number One’s death took all aspects of my identity from me – as a woman, a mother, professionally – everything. So, when my friend said some exceedingly beautiful words to me yesterday it was interesting to hear who HE thought I was. He, who has known me so long, and walked much of this road with me. And, you know, it was just plain nice to hear as well.

I have seen the very worst of people, right up close and in my face, but it’s important to remember that I have seen the very best of them too. There’s much to be thankful for.

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