It’s a cliche but it’s true: it is darkest before the dawn. And this was one damned dark January. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many storms in one month. I don’t mind the rain, it’s soothing to listen to… but when you have barely seen the sun or gone for a walk in six weeks it gets tiresome.

… not to mention that it’s totally true what people say about grief, losing somebody indescribably precious to you: the second and third years after their death are harder than the first.

In the first year, you’re so focused on the practicalities of dealing with their finances, house, and will – plus relieved they are no longer suffering – you don’t really have time to grieve… then after the dust has settled, the reality of the fact that you will never… see them… again… really sinks in. Plus all your friends (who are too preoccupied with babies and such anyways) stop calling because they assume the worst is over… when really the worst has only just begun.

I’ve experienced heartache before… but never anything like this.

However, there is still life to be lived. And I feel every winter has one day – one moment – when it feels spring is finally here… and light comes back into your life.

For a few reasons, this was that moment. I was going to make my bed for this shot, to symbolise a new beginning: for two years I have spent roughly 50 hours a week tossing and turning with the worst insomnia I’ve EVER experienced. “Torture” doesn’t even begin to describe it.

But this year – miraculously – I haven’t had one sleepless night. So tidying the shot seemed appropriate.

But then I thought… nah. Leave the sheets in their chaotic state – rather than sanitise this moment. I’ve suffered a lot with knives in my heart, pained by memories of my mother, tossing and turning and tossing and turning. I can’t even convey the misery of the experience, truly.

Everything seems to have turned a corner. And I hope I didn’t suffer for nothing. She most certainly wouldn’t have wanted me to.

Either way… a little sunshine is never a bad thing.