If he was alive, today would have been my dad's 65th birthday. Even now, five years on, I'm still a mess of tears and emotion in the weeks leading up to and following this date. People say that it gets easier, but I haven't found that to be true. It just gets different. The muscles you use to carry the grief get stronger and you just get used to having it with you all the time. And now, with a baby, the grandchild my father always longed for but never got, there's a fresh veneer of pain over this old wound.