1940

I can take almost anything, but not this.

After a long while I have managed to adapt to the empty room and to the silence and the lack of toys scattered in the hallway. I can accept the fact that there is no one coming home from school at four o‘clock every day. There won’t be anyone standing on a kitchen chair to reach the jam on the top shelf of the fridge, or anyone making messy scones and pastry on the table there.

There won’t be baths filled with toys or water splashed over the wooden floor outside. There won’t be rearranged furniture in the front room to accommodate some elaborate game involving stuffed animals and an old bed sheet. There won’t be the sound of a little girl’s voice singing to herself as she does her homework.

There won’t be a small face peeking round the bedroom door in the morning to wake me up with a cup of tea and a cuddle. There won’t be a little hand holding mine as we sit together at night and watch her favourite TV programmes. There won’t be an inquiring mind behind an inquisitive face looking over my shoulder not just asking what I am doing but how and why. There won’t be any of her friends coming over at the weekend any more, making noise with their games and chatter. There won’t be anyone around for me to teach the value of the books and music I love. There won’t be any more laughter. There won’t be any more happiness.

I can take almost anything, and have rationalised it all in my head; until today when I opened her wardrobe doors and saw her pair of little red shoes that we chose and bought together for Debbie’s wedding party. I can remember her sitting on the floor, sticking her tongue out with concentration as she practised putting them on. She got up and clumped about the stone floor of the kitchen. We laughed together as she tap-danced with them. She was looking forward to wearing them again. But she never did.

I can take almost anything, but I know that what I am now facing is a grief that is impossible to face. My little girl is gone, and it’s likely that nothing I can do will ever bring her back.