Two years ago today I woke up and knew he was gone. I tried to pretend for as long as I could, but I knew. I still feel physically sick when I allow myself to remember how in instant I knew I was suddenly alone. That knowing was the worst part and in some ways I have been alone ever since. Although Owen was born tomorrow, today is the day I lost him. This is the second anniversary of the worst day of my life.
All those terrible moments, just frozen in my mind. I wonder will this day always be like this?