Today would have been Judah’s 7th birthday.
I will never get used to him dying at 3 years old. It remains hard to fathom, difficult to comprehend – an assault on what is meant to be normal.
We were meant to have a party today, to spoil my little man. We were meant to marvel in the person he is becoming, his quirks and creativity.
But instead, I retreat, solemn and uncertain.
I comfort my family. I watch videos of my boy. I pray for those touched by grief, that unwelcome grand club of so many who miss those so dear to them.
I will always be Judah’s dadda, and look towards being reunited, to hugging him, playing with him once again when the Lord calls me home.