Disclaimer: My husband asked me not to blog tonight, because I am a tad upset and sleep deprived so there is every chance I may delete this post.
Or not.

So this week I was given the pleasure of being a guest commentator for a women's fashion magazine. It was fun. They sent me pictures of various celebrities dressed up in their Sunday best and I critiqued them in a witty and caustic way. Well I thought they were witty.
And so they were published and I felt very proud. Because I myself am not fashion forward, or even fashionable. My favourite item of clothing is a pair of overlong velour sweatpants that I would wear 24/7 if I could. Only the pained sigh of my long-suffering mother stops this from being the case. For her, I wear jeans instead.
I was critical of these celebrities as one can be, safe in the knowledge they are unlikely to read or even care about my opinion. In fact, being sarcastic was fun.
My attitude has always been, well if you are well known you have to put up with the good and bad side of fame, because you asked for it.
Now I'm not famous.
I'm not well known.
But I've realised people are talking about Rory's Garden online.
Now alot of it was lovely.
But some of it was not.
And the people saying those things and taking shameless advantage of the goodwill of those of us tending his garden probably didn't know I would ever read what they wrote.
But I did.
And it stings.
And truthfully as I sit here tonight I don't know what to do.
We've asked people to respect the few rules of our garden. My brother has toiled night and day and I've put in alot of love as well.
So I could conceivably crawl into a corner and cry. But I won't.
Instead we will continue to honour the memory of my brother. Because remembering him and all those precious babies and children taken too soon is why his garden was created.
And I hope people will remember that too.
And I know that sometimes words have a huge power to wound, and sometime we don't realise that. If I'd known that before I did my guest fashion commentator spot I wouldn't have said that Heather Graham's hair looked like she'd been attacked by wild birds.
I'd have just said "birds"