Yesterday was The anniversary of Dan’s death. To me, it will always be the 9th of June rather than the 8th. The 8th is etched in my memory as a night of pain, shock and sheer bewilderment. The 9th.. well. That’s the Day that I had to tell my children that their dad wouldn’t be coming home. It was something that couldn’t be “put off”. It had to be dealt with. And it was awful.
This was the day I walked around dazed and confused about the night before. Having had little sleep and trying to focus my brain into being a workable mum. Listening to messages on my voicemail, releasing statements, the beginnings of a constant stream of cards and beautifully made flower arrangements appearing at my door. to the point that a plea was made to stop them. My home was like a garden centre. So beautiful!
This was the day I started to begin the task of organising a funeral. To be honest, it wasn’t really me, it was those (un) lucky people who I voluntold. Again though, it had to be dealt with. Sitting in a chair opposite the chaplain, I sighed loudly, faked a smile and watched him take out his big leather binder.
The regimental funeral was scheduled for the 13th. Then the 15th. Eventually settling on the 17th. Mainly due to me. I knew there was too much to do. Too much to organize. They were sure everything would be ready. I knew they were wrong. To say I was a little defiant was an understatement. There was so much to do. I was lucky. I had this big group of people all helping me with things that I couldn’t effectively handle myself. I became likened to Jekyll and Hyde. Fine one moment and a raging psycho the next. And it was their job to keep me calm. Keep me on a level pegging. How they did it, I have no idea. They themselves were struggling and I couldn’t see that. They had lives to lead and they put them on hold. For me. I never thanked them but I wish I had.
I wish I had kept a diary. Writing everything that happened in the 9 days from Dan’s death to his funeral. They all mould into one. Memories dispersed all over the place. there isn’t really a timeline anymore. Friends ask me if I remember certain things that happened. To which I can only say no. I’d love for my friends to write down what they remember, but it could just be too hard for them. It would bring back too many memories.
Maybe one day…
Cxx
The Narration of I 
I stumbled upon your blog today. It made me both incredibly happy and heartbroken. You are a stranger to me yet I feel like I should know you after such a tradegy.
This city mourns this anniversary. I have talked to my boys (similar age to yours) today and many days about your family’s sacrifice in the name of keeping us safe. I know words from a stranger doesn’t make it easier, but I just want you to know, you and your family are in our hearts and we are forever greatful.
I’m sure your husband would be proud of your writing (and would accept your non journaling on the days after his death). I’m sure he would be proud of the life you have chosen and of your boys as the grow everyday! I hope you find peace in such a crazy, bewildered world. The people and prayers of Edmonton are with you
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Gone but never forgotten! Walked into work to start my new position and saw what day it was! I will always cherish the memories of playing squash with Dan and him kicking my butt every time!
Ken Mullins
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Hi Claire. My name is Barb Smith, I’m married to Dominique Fox’s dad Kevin.
Like many others, June 8th (9th and many other days/weeks after) are forever etched in my mind and heart.
As the 2nd year anniversary has come upon us, it’s impossible not to reevaluate the events of June 8th. With those thoughts in my mind, I started reading your blog. I feel compelled to tell you that you Claire, are a compelling and gifted writer. I am in awe of the put it all out there that you are doing in this forum. Despite what the subject matter of the day might be, I applaud you for being brave enough to fight to find yourself again. Thank you for sharing your journey and best wishes in your your road ahead.
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Hey Claire – Thinking of you often these last couple of year…your strength and the love between you and Dan, and you all (incl parents/grandparents, etc.) and your fun loving boys!! What a great move to the UK… for a bit …or longer…can only imagine the tough decisions to move countries, but it is a sound one… with family and the British culture near and around to add to your and your children’s everyday lives. So important. My parents are British… so totally know what the culture means (Mum is from Worcester and Dad from Hereford and they are here in Canada…teachers… from ’69…teaching for 2 years and 2 years isn’t up yet, lol)…your sacrifice being a mom and wife and your giving ways are inspirational. Hopefully the perspective of time, and not being under the microscope will help you find your rhythm again. Sending you best wishes from Alberta, Canada, … and prayers that things flow easier for you … and …so many more memories to make… and on a different note: that we find all these terrorists before they execute their crazy ideas and worse things happen. We stand with you Claire, the Courageous Canadian-British Gal,…and we stand with London and Manchester. God Bless and enjoy the great cider… We hope the British countryside inspires you to relax and feel and know the love all around you… and that Dan is with you everywhere and I think is so pleased with all your decisions. I think it is living, not “moving on” that is key and from a far it appears you are doing very well at living…but just finding one’s way is enough each day… Too much pressure “to move on” that people say one must…rather just flow and “be” … just “be” and living will come naturally and pleasant surprises are just around the corner…Take good care … I need to live this advice too…and as weird as it sounds, even appreciate the sleepless moments when you think you should be asleep… sometimes being awake can be frustrating … just embrace those moments as the peace you wish for can “be”-come …and think to yourself will be the peace you make for yourself…I have known troubled times … and your story in your blog speaks of such courage and intrepidness…you are on a great path… Alfred Lord Tennyson in his poem “Ulysses” wrote as the last line “To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.” From PCE x
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