Unravelling....

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It's been a year since you've been gone. A whole year! I have wanted to write about you so often but it's been too hard.

There was the initial shock and grief. The tears at night as I wept into The Pianoman's chest. Always at night.

Then we packed up and left Sydney - your home with all the memories I hold so dear - and for three months we travelled around this big country of ours. A big distraction.

At the end of the trip, we returned to our home in Tasmania and something started happening.

Like a ball of wool, I started to unravel. Delayed grief perhaps?

It started the day we arrived back here. First it was the sight of the Agapantha hedge at the top of the stairs. And then the smell of the Wisteria climbing the pillar at the front door. Memories of you.

And then a small cardboard box in the bedroom. It sat there for weeks before I could open it. It contained some of your handkerchiefs and scarves. They were destined for the local charity store and I couldn't bare that thought and asked if I could keep them instead. Worth nothing but everything to me. They still smell of you.

Then Winter came and I got to wear the beautiful chevron scarf you knitted for me in 1997 to keep me warm while I lived in Canada for a year. I wore this scarf all Winter long.

And then the one Camellia bush in the garden starts to flower. More memories of you.

Then there was the daily visit to the letterbox, knowing there would never ever be another letter from you. If you were still here we would have had many exchanges. I wanted to tell you all about our trip and our new life. You would have been so interested in everything we were doing. All the mundane things that only you would care about.

I tried to hold the ball of wool together but it continued to unravel as your Birthday came and went. As did Mothers Day, a day where I always think of you.

I unpacked more boxes and found the book you wrote about your life which we received just after you died, the most precious of gifts. And then there's the big folder of letters and e-mails which we had exchanged over the years and which you gave to me 3 days before you died.

And then I received your precious Pearls. The ones with the Sapphire clasp that you wore to all the special family occasions, Weddings, Births, Anniversaries. I wrote to Grandpa to thank him and told him I was taking your Pearls on a Date to Government House. He liked that. I wear them as often as I can.

I then I fall pregnant and the Ball of wool has well and truly unravelled now. I feel unhinged and I don't know what to do about it. You will never get to meet this member of our family and they will not meet you. It breaks my heart. I loved that I had a Daughter followed by 3 Sons just like you. But that connection will soon be broken. You would not have been surprised that I am having another baby though. We discussed it. I told you I hoped to have another one and asked whether you ever wish you had another child. You really had to think about this. You said you would have but were advised not to have any more after my Dad, the last born, was declared an "Olympic Champion" at birth. I asked you what names you liked. You liked "Loretta", a name you had heard while at the Hairdressers.

And here we are one year on. I still think of you everyday and still struggle knowing there will never be anyone to fill that void or help me feel connected to the rest of the family like you did.

You filled my life with so much love and happy memories and I will miss you forever. My Darling Nanny.