I felt sudden panic rising inside me. Panic that she was forgetting him.
"You do remember him don't you?" I asked her stricken.
"Yes Mummy of course I do" she said soothingly.
"You mustn't EVER EVER forget him" I warned her, knowing deep down that one day she would probably not be able to remember what he looked like.
Already his face is blurring to me and I have to keep looking at photos to remember the lines and crags of his face. His hands, the clothes he wore...
But it is the disbelief that he is gone that sometimes overwhelms me. I still think subconsciously he is at home, with Mum, lying in bed reading the paper, taking the dog for a walk, sitting reading his book in front of the fire, driving like a mad man to get a pint of milk. All of those little things that he used to just do. The sudden realisation that he isn't doing any of them any more hits me like a ten ton truck even now, ten months later.
Sometimes when we talk on the phone, Mum and I artfully dance around the subject of him, avoiding it as it is just too painful and we haven't got the strength to talk about it right at that very moment. Other times we talk about him endlessly and the emotions rise up like a wave, receding again just as quickly. Sometimes it's easier just to be with the kids and my husband and to not think about him at all. Seeing family brings it back which is upsetting and yet comforting at the same time.
I turned the telly on last week and Crocodile Dundee was on. It was the end when she runs into the Tube station in that red dress to find Mick. She stands calling to him across the sea of people who carry her message that she loves him and she isn't going to marry her boyfriend. I burst into tears. It was one of Papa's favourite films. I felt ridiculous but couldn't help myself.
A regular and well known mummy blogger has just lost her baby to cot death. She is writing about her grief on Twitter and tonight she is clearly in a phase of total disbelief. The tweets are coming thick and fast - why oh why oh why did she die. I want to reach out to her, soothe her and help make her pain go away. What I'm going through is nothing compared to that. The sad thing is there is no comfort or relief. You just have to face the stark reality head on.
Believe it. It's real. They are not coming back.