It’s the small things that get you.

My last visit to the recycling centre was with him. The cushions they would not accept lay in an Ikea bag in the boot of our car for a long time. They represented a connection, continuity. Today the cushions are gone. While that means letting go, it also tears me apart.

The first ‘Mother’s Day’ has come and gone after his passing. I was with friends in India on the day. They thoughtfully did their best to hide the fact from me and I played along.

At work this morning a patient asked me casually about how many kids I had. I was completely taken by surprise, not knowing what to say. I wonder what the correct answer would be. I am sure the factual answer would be very different from the one in my head and heart.

Going back to work has been a source of strength while it has also made me realise how physically weak I am. The welcoming words, hugs and gestures of colleagues have been uplifting. The genuine happiness on friend’s faces on seeing me has made me feel honoured to be so lucky to be working with such a lovely bunch of people.

More than ever before, I am sure that things that matter the most are usually small things, people and hugs.