I remember when the doctor told me, it was indeed not ‘an abundance of flatulence’ but was a new baby to be born in nine months.
I spent a few hours pondering how this love was going to forever change my life and his dads. We were not married and I was young, a statistic in fact, but I knew it was going to be challenging.
It didn’t change my mind, I was going to have a baby.
Yes, I said it.
I did not say he died.
I did not say he was killed.
I said it he was murdered.
On this day I get the chance to celebrate the life of one and the memory of another.
Do my son talk about him? No not anymore.
So why is it hard for me on this day?
It’s because I choose to think about him and the lovely memories we shared together.
I choose to make these tears of joy of a life lived.
I choose to think of his life being fulfilled to that day.
Will I ever know what other things he may have achieved on this Earth? No!
But I know I can choose to remember him exactly as I do on this day every year.
What do you choose to think on special days that are linked to the murder of someone you loved, knew or heard about?