I was coming up with some wording for the invitations to my youngest’s 1st Birthday party. She’s our fourth, and last, child. I wanted to write that despite my own fundamental unsuitedness to parenthood, all of our children had made it to their first birthdays.
Except of course they haven’t.
It’s so easy, on a day-to-day basis, to think of onesself as having three children. There they are, girl, boy, girl. All healthy and lovely and doing great if only the youngest would sleep, thanks very much. But it’s at times like these that the loss of our darling Alastair is keenly felt.
Glum, humph. Back to the business at hand, of celebrating those still with us, cogniscant of those missing.