Yesterday was Father's Day in New Zealand (and Australia, and maybe a few other places). Later we visited his father, who now lives alone. We had dinner with him and spent the the evening chatting. Of course, it is not a great day for my husband. I think some time ago I mentioned to him that it should be his day. And he reminded me! So I made him bacon and eggs for brunch, and ensured he had a relaxing day. He doesn't say much, but it is obvious that there are some days when what we have lost is hard for him.
Saturday was also the 16th anniversary of the due date of my last ectopic pregnancy. It's an odd thing to think about. Many years ago, I grieved the child who would have been 16 now had the pregnancy lasted. I grieved the parents we would have been. And if I allow myself to imagine the 16-year-old we might have had, I could grieve both the child and our life as parents all over again. But that life would have now been so different from my current reality, that it is hard to imagine.
Oh, sure, if I wanted to imagine it I could. But that's all it would be - imaginings. Painful imaginings. It seems pointless to put myself through that. Which is not to say that I don't do that from time to time. I don't think any of us can help doing that occasionally. But they are simply flickers of thoughts. Anything further would be ... I don't know ... indulgence? Self-flagellation? Still, sometimes I just need to acknowledge what would have been, and to acknowledge the passing of time.