The good times are both wonderful and painful, all at the same time.
The pride in my children; shadowed by the pressing weight of the fact that nobody on this earth feels exactly the same as I do anymore.
That intensity of love, pride and utter amazement of those wonderful little people being ours, is mine (and god am I grateful for it). I yearn for it being ours again.
Anger that they don’t have that other huge wind of unconditional love at their sails.
Moments of joy rolling into ‘he would’ve loved this’; ‘they would’ve loved him to see this’ and just how wonderful it would be to have him share this with me, side by side, holding my hand and sharing in the delight of whatever it was in the car on the way home.
All of these things, sometimes pass through my mind in the blink of an eye.