The final first

I have heard it said that the ‘firsts’ are the hardest; the first birthday, the first Christmas, the first anniversary of death and the first time you realise they are actually gone; gone for good.


We have lived through the first of everything now, except the anniversary of her death.  And while we have been apart, dealing with our private heartaches, challenges, children, families, work and life, the only person I could imagine being with tonight, is my sister.  The only other person who can mirror my emotions, feel the same way as I do.


And the only way I could see facing this final first was just the 2 of us, spoiling ourselves, having conversations that last longer than a caught moment between spilt drinks, snotty noses, tiny tantrums, grazed knees and any kind of meal prep, or family demand.


She would be happy.


And as I sit in front of a roaring fire waiting for Bird to arrive, I can almost feel her, on the sofa next to me, reaching for my hand and leaning in, saying ‘Well done, Boo!  Good choice.  Shall we get some cake?’

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