It’s strange, I know I shouldn’t feel guilty when I suddenly find myself smiling, or even laughing, but I do. How can I do these things when my son has only been gone for such a short time? If he were watching, would he think I never loved him? Would the people in my presence think such a thing as well?

All these questions are stupid. I know that. But still, I feel guilty when any semblance of normal life surrounds me. I also know that Barry would not have wanted us to be in pain and sorrow, and that he wouldn’t have wanted us to stop living because of his actions. He was a good person, a caring person. I believe that he did know how I felt about him. How could he not, when I told him often that I loved him?

Yet the feelings of guilt still consume me. Thoughts of betrayal linger in my mind. When will these things stop? Maybe next month, or next year, or in ten years time. Maybe never. I don’t know.

I believe the problem stems from other people expecting me to stop talking about what happened. These people are denying me an outlet. It’s unfair because it means I have to censor what I say. In truth, I continue to talk about what happened with the people closest to me – Gary and Daniel. I encourage them to do the same because with each week that passes, there are new emotions to cope with. And, of course, there is this blog, which I find to be therapeutic and gives me purpose.