lilliebet

Only the previous year, the guy in the house next door was murdered and the house set on fire. The police came to interview me while I was opening presents and doling out birthday cake. I thought that one was an odd birthday but the following year topped it.

It was the early hours of the morning before the police and fire service had finished and the road was reopened. I spent the afternoon at my mum's having as happy a time as was possible in the circumstances.

Later, back at home, I was making the dinner and the church bell started to toll (as it normally does at that time on a Saturday) and I suddenly became aware of an eerie silence. I live on a busy main road and traffic noise is the norm but everything had fallen silent and I couldn't understand why.

I went into the living room and looked out of the window. The road outside my house was thronged with teenagers. Some standing, some sitting, some hugging each other, all crying softly mourning the friends they'd lost. The traffic had stopped, no-one had the heart to cut through their grief, they were just left to their thoughts and their prayers. I backed away from the window, I felt that I was intruding, it was so strange to feel like an intruder in my own home.

By the end of the day, the pavement outside was a sea of flowers. It was like a shrine and for days and nights, kids continued to come and stand, crying for their loss. It was awful. Whenever I stepped over the threshold, I again felt like I was intruding on their grief and it felt like it would never end. It was the saddest birthday I've ever had.

I just got home from work tonight and the flowers have started to arrive, as they do every year. Tomorrow I will celebrate my fortieth birthday but, as I have every year for the last five years, I'll also be sad for those kids who will never celebrate another. Life goes on but so many will always be affected by their deaths, including me and mine who never knew them.