It feels a bit wrong to sit here and write this post, treacherous almost. Because what I am about to write about - thank God - is not my grief, not my pain. I'm merely standing on the perimeter of it.
E goes to Family Day Care while I work and we dropped him off this morning to hear the devastating news the one of the little boys who also goes has died of cot death. He was 18 months old.
By 18 months you think you're out of the woods. Worse (if it could actually be worse - possibly not) is that it happened when the family were overseas on a holiday. It also happened in the middle of the day when the boy was laying down for a nap with his dad.
All of us who knew him feel heartbroken beyond words. But that is nothing compared to what his parents must feel. That we cannot know.