Leaving the place of our memories...

Shane has a new job and we're leaving here.  The move will take us about 100km away. 

Memories are just that.  Memories.  The only way to lose them is to forget them.  And I will never forget him.

But there are still a lot of deep seated emotions to be leaving the place where the memories created.  I'm unclear even within myself of what that means really.  The memories are not proverbial.  Ciaran did not stand here where I stand.

But I did with him within.  I held my baby lamb, Mr Mitchell, below the balcony I stand on to snap this pic. 

With Ciaran within. 

I walked the paddocks before me.  At dawn.  In winter.  Dressed in my blue dressing gown with yellow duckies on it.  And gum boots.  With my camera. 

And Ciaran within.

I look at my writing here and wonder at the poetry of it.  There is no poem in grief.  But the emphasis of what is important to me lulls.

These are the photos of the last dawn in the house that Ciaran wasn't.  A beautiful clear morning which is unusual as we are normally fog bound until late morning here.  The mist rising as steam from a cauldron off the lake. 

I was thinking of a morning that I wasn't there to see the dawn as I was in the hospital birthing my baby boy.  And seeing him die.

It brings back the feeling of devastation.

I saw many dawns after that.  But I couldn't appreciate any of the beauty in them.  They were so very empty.

And I was thinking of another dawn that I photographed in the same way as these photos.  It was the morning one year after Ciaran was born and died. 

So now I photograph the morning we leave.  I have one baby in the ground.  I have his name in a tree below me.  I have another baby just a tiny soul.  I have a love heart in the tree.

And now I have my rainbow.