Sarah misses you too, bubba.

(Sarah is Mummy's Friend, and Bertie's Mummy)

When Helen and I first met, I was about six months into my grief journey, and she had just started hers, so I can't say in what ways she has changed. I do know she has though, because I know it is impossible to go through what we both have, and not be changed fundamentally.

I know that her entire life is now divided into two parts: Before Haydon and after Haydon.
Her friends and family are now divided into two groups: Those who were there, and those who were not. Day to day her life is divided into two options: She wants to be here today, or maybe tomorrow she does not. I know, because she tells me, but she doesn't need to, because I just know.

I also know that Haydon left a legacy, a legacy of love, of hope, of fighting. I know he inspires Helen and Jim to keep fighting through the pain and keep going, because if Haydon can, so can they. I know he was so brave, because he came from two of the bravest people you could ever meet.

I often wonder at the little boy Haydon would be, and I imagine a very happy, smiley little boy, who's favourite game is superman. Infact, I think he plays superman every day, as now he truly does fly.

My wish for this family's future is to offer a loving home to a child who needs them, and maybe when the time is right, Haydon will nudge his mummy to find his little sibling. Until then, my prayer is that she manages to keep walking, as I need her as much as she needs me.