Your legacy
Some days are just hard. Some months are even harder. I used to love August, the promise of a summer holiday spent with the people I loved more than anything in the world, lazy days spent walking Zac and spending time in the garden. Day trips to the coast and holidays to Anglesey. Chauffeuring you to the stables and back. Our shopping trips, you begging to go to McDonald’s. Every. Single. Time! At the end of the school holidays there’d be a moment of anxiety or panic even, butterflies, telling us six weeks had passed and we’d done nothing, or so we thought back then. We didn’t know we were making such beautiful sweet memories, even on the days we hardly left the house. I look at our lives now and August has become such a sad, bleak month. The anxious build up to the day you left and then the long, arduous stretch to the day your body was turned to ash. You can see why its bleak. You can understand why I dislike it so much. The triggers are everywhere. The warm days reminding me of...