I feel a bit self-indulgent when I talk about my grief. Three friends I had in London died from Leukaemia related diseases and while I miss them dearly, that is not the only thing I mourn.
I mourn the old me. The happy, confident, independant me. I miss the person who climbed the Eiffel Tower even though she was scared of heights. I miss the one who walked hand-in-hand with a man who loved her to a London bakery for hot croissants one snowy morning. I mourn the loss of my character, my laugh, my sense of humour - practically I miss my ability to walk without a stick, to run and jump into a pool. I miss my life plan and I mourn for all the things I thought I wanted and now, will never have. I know it seems a bit shallow of me, when so many people have lost so much more and while I do realise that my situation could be so much worse, I mourn the loss of a happier me and worry-free days.
