Three months after Pippa has passed and I am still numb. Please forgive me if I:
don’t speak
don’t get out of the car to watch the footy
don’t sympathise if your child has a cold or a cough over winter
don’t look like I’m following the conversation (I’m not)
don’t socialise
don’t look you in the eye
don’t say I’m sorry that your mother, father, grandparent, uncle, aunt, friend…has passed away at the age of 50, 60,70, 80, 90… I’m sorry for you but I simply cannot say the words because I am just so raw for Pippa, James, Patrick and myself. She was only eleven years old! It’s so unfair!
I still go to tell Pippa things. I still go to show her a funny photo or a photo of a baby. I still want to tell her something I have seen or heard or done. I can’t though and I never remember that; I always have to remind myself that I just can’t anymore. My little shadow is no longer there. I go into Pippa’s room every night and every morning opening and closing the blinds and turning lamps on and off. She would like that I am doing that.
A friend has given me two quotes recently. They very aptly put into words these past three months:
She’s in the sun, the wind, the rain,
she’s in the air you breathe with every breath you take.
she sings a song of hope and cheer, there’s no more pain, no more fear.
You’ll see her in the clouds above, hear her whisper words of love,
you’ll be together before too long, until then listen for her song.
Pippa’s songs are everywhere. I especially love it when people tell me about moments when songs that they hear remind them of Pippa.
In her own words it is seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months…
Pippa, there is not a month, week, day, hour, minute or second that I don’t think of you.
Sometimes it’s okay if the only thing you did today was breathe.
I am managing to breathe, but most days at some point I have to manage my breathing. 
Forgive me, but it is so heartbreakingly unfair and I am so terribly heartbroken.
Pippa Rea 