I thought the "firsts" were over.
The first day without him. The realisation that he wasn't coming home. The first week. I remember for a time that everyday at 1:30pm my heart would sink within me, as if even the clock was willing that I should remember his time of death and be pierced all over again.
The first Christmas.
Hearing a new baby cry for the first time, and remembering that was the one sound I desperately wanted you to make.
Celebrating the first birthday.
The "firsts" have swiftly melted into the seconds, the thirds, and on and on as the years have continued to go by.
I really thought we were through that. Over the emotional hurdles that face us day after day and year after year as we live our lives without our son.
Until I leapt eyes on a handsome little boy all dressed up in his brand new uniform ready for his first day at school. He looked simply adorable.
This little bloke is only about 6 months older than Oliver would be, and I guess I never realised that he has been like a point of reference for me since losing Oliver.
So his cheeky little smile in his sweet uniform and there it was... it would be Oliver's first day too.
I'd be dusting off the K-5 curriculum and setting out the workbooks. We'd be getting his own little workspace ready. LittleBee would be buzzing around him wanting to teach him all the things she learned with the same fun books. I can just see LadyBug stealing his pencils and running away with them, while no doubt I would be struggling to keep Oliver seated long enough to concentrate on the first lesson.
My heart sinks a little more tonight as I contemplate another phase of our lifetime without our boy to share these memories with. Yes it seems that the "firsts" are far from over.