Four years today
God. Four years since I last tucked them in. Emily would be 12 now, Ben 9. I keep thinking about their voices - do they sound different? Are Emily’s teeth finally straight after those braces? Does Ben still collect those ridiculous Pokemon cards?
I drove past their old primary school today without thinking and just… sat there in the car park crying. Some woman knocked on my window asking if I was alright. How do you explain that your children are alive and well but might as well be on the moon?
My therapist Rachel says anniversaries are always hard but this one feels different. Heavier maybe. Emily’s starting secondary school this year and I won’t be there to help her choose her uniform or calm her nerves on the first day. Ben’s probably forgotten what I look like properly.
The worst part is still hearing other mums complain about their kids being difficult or wanting space. I’d give anything for my daughter to slam a door in my face or my son to roll his eyes at me.
Their dad’s done such a thorough job. Changed schools, moved house, blocked my number. Even my own mum stopped asking about them last Christmas because she couldn’t bear watching me fall apart again.
Sometimes I wonder if they think about me too or if they’ve written me off completely now. Four years is a long time when you’re that age
anyway I needed to write this down somewhere. Tomorrow I’ll go for my usual walk and try to focus on the day ahead but tonight I’m just sitting with this pain and remembering when they used to fight over who got to sit next to me on the sofa