Tired

It's the end of a long week, a week in which sadness has worn a calloused groove into my heart.

The support of friends and strangers has been overwhelming: so many of you commented here or emailed with kind words. Others offered cupcakes and yellow roses. Last night the Mt Vic Vixens convened in my garden to drink Pimms and eat an array of fattening snacks; I laughed and cried and realised that the pain will come in waves, that I can go hours without thinking of Molly and then memories of her sweet face will tug at my consciousness and tears will spring forth. But as wise friends have said, there's nothing to do but wait it out, to sit with the discomfort and be patient. And eventually it will get better.