An eruption in Sainsbury's

I made a show of myself in Sainsbury's today. Wandering 'Household Linen' I'd just refused DD2's chirpy request for canary yellow bath towels. Unperturbed, she'd skipped off to join her sister inspecting the rows of Easter booty.

I moved on to 'Candles, Vases and Ceramic Instructions'; you know: 'BAKE', 'LOVE' etc. I briefly pondered that, lovely as they are (I have 'LOVE' in my own house), they are missing a trick. I for one would buy 'CUPPA', 'VACUUM', or 'TIDY' to place strategically around our home as subliminal instructions to the DDs. Musing further possibilities, I turned the corner and stopped dead. I was faced with a 5ft pale pink stand bursting with floral cards. I gasped: Surely, it's too soon? I quickly moved to a more 'private' aisle - not much doing in the crockery aisle today I can report - where I attempted to blend into the display as I mopped my face and tried to keep the mascara vaguely north of my chin.

My darling girls found me five minutes later, concern and shock on their faces. I couldn't speak, only point. DD1 went to investigate, came back and despite the embarrassment she must have felt hugged her weeping mum, while DD2 hugged us both.

Hours later I still feel unsettled, winded. I hoped writing this might make some sense of it, but it hasn't really. It's always there, grief. Sometimes it's closer to the surface so it leaks slowly, other times it's buried deeper and you find you are getting on with life, laughing even, until it erupts when you are least prepared.

Fortunately, my comfort is simple: My beautiful daughters. Because though for the first time in my life I won't have anyone to send a card to, what makes it all bearable is that they still do.