My journey ended before it began. Cliched, but true. In many ways it took a long time, in many ways it was very short. Nearly a year has passed, and I have seen my broken heart and my broken soul pitifully and repeatedly, try to fix themselves, only to have the sutures they so desperately sewed- unpicked by those they love, including myself sometimes. Each time, you see, they have failed to understand that the loss of a dream you had for nearly 18 years, the loss of your sanity, the loss of a child – is not something that they can mend quickly. There are no sticking plasters that will stay on this wound. There is no way my naive heart and soul could have ever understood a year ago, that the pain, the helplessness and the guilt that comes from losing a child, can not be erased from a person’s spirit, especially if that child is still alive. I have failed that child, I hope he will still fly.