The Last First

Tue 13 Feb

Tomorrow night, one year ago, we were woken up (Jules in hospital flats and me at home) to be told that Little S was fighting for her life.

And within a couple of hours we had to face the worst news that a parent can possibly hear.

Since that terrible night I often heard that the first of every special occasion and important date is always going to be hard.

The first of Shani’s birthdays.

The first Pesach.

The first Summer holiday.

The first new school year.

The first Rosh Hashanah.

The first Chanukah.

The first yahrzeit.

I agree – it is.

And yet.

We are shortly to face the last first.

The final event within the annual cycle of life without Shani.

And one that has never happened before.

And after that … the second, the third, the fourth, the nth.

Years of life ahead without Shani.

Years of life without our gorgeous, smiley, feisty angel.

Years of life spent in anger at why she wasn’t given the chance that we have at life, and in wonder at how she lit up every room and grabbed at life in every moment.

Years of life in which we will keep on falling down in grief and keep on getting up and choosing life again.

These seconds, these thirds, these fourths.

They might not be as raw as the firsts but I’m fairly sure that they will still be daunting, painful – perhaps though a different sort of pain.

At the stonesetting this weekend, after many months of slowly sinking back into some kind of a normal life, we will grieve publicly again.

We will be together with wonderful family and friends.

We will gather at Shani’s side and say Kaddish one more time.

We will remember Shani and her smile and try and draw strength from her memory.

And we will talk about the future.

Judaism tells us that after a year of mourning, the world is waiting for us once again.

That grieving never stops.

And that we should choose life.