Day 12 Week 2

Picked a fine day to watch my first evening news. Thought - yes I can face this and was then arrested by the sight of Gordon Brown reading the names of the Fallen since July. ITN added photographs to the Roll of Honour. "We few. We happy few. We Band of Brothers. For those who shed their blood with us today shall always be our Brothers." They were all so young and alive and then in a moment gone.

The Army has been asking for more men on the ground and yesterday the Government announced it would be increasing troop numbers by 500 taking the total to 9,500. But they will only be deployed if 'strict' conditions are met. These qualifications are to include - sufficient equipment being in place and accessible; increased participation by NATO 'allies'; additional involvement by Afghan indigineous security forces and a broader sharing of the 'load'.

That is like a parent saying to a child who desperately needs a new pair of shoes, you can have them but only provided - you get yourself to the shoe-shop; the neighbours are prepared to assist with all purchasing requirements and the people who work in the shoe-shop share some of the cost. So, sorry little child with sore, cold feet but unless all that is met the new shoes will have to go on hold.

And to think soldiers back on leave guarded people shredding evidence of MPs fiddling expenses.

Empty nest syndrome is a frightening thing. Miss all my kids. Obviously C occupies a lot of thought because of clear and present danger but miss the other two achingly too. When my marriage ended a dear friend said to me 'whatever you do, do not inflict a stream of uncles on those children' and so I took a conscious decision to avoid the complications that can arise with step and half relations. Consequently we bacame a tight-knit bunch with the kids having a very deep bond of loyalty to each other and also thankfully to me. But during the heady ride through their childhoods I never once imagined that all three would fly the nest simultaneously.

Nothing really prepares you for the shock of it - one minute the house is alive with shouting, crying, laughter and fun and the next moment it is silent. The walls seem to be dead somehow. It's a cliche I know, but I have closed their bedroom doors because I can't bear to see the unoccupied space. Yes here I am, rattling around in a very quiet house, talking to myself, having 'diner a une' each evening and living with the Bridget Jones fear of being found dead at the foot of the stairs weeks after a fall. Well, maybe I exaggerate but without my gorgeous friends that's what it would feel like. Close ones have threatened to install a budgie.

A lovely lady very kindly sent this to me so here's the Prayer to St Therese.

'O little St. Theresa of the Child Jesus, who during your short life on earth became a mirror of angelic purity, of love strong as death, and of wholehearted abandonment to God, now that you rejoice in the reward of your virtues, cast a glance of pity on me as I leave all things in your hands. Make my troubles your own - speak a word for me to our Lady Immaculate, whose flower of special love you were - to that Queen of heaven "who smiled on you at the dawn of life." Beg her as the Queen of the heart of Jesus to obtain for me by her powerful intercession, the grace I yearn for so ardently at this moment, and that she join with it a blessing that may strengthen me during life. Defend me at the hour of death, and lead me straight on to a happy eternity.
Amen'

Apparently she really has worked miracles.

Thank you for all your messages of support.

Speak soon. A soldier's Mum x