I have been moving and internetless for a wee while now...After spending 40 minutes on the line to my internet provider we finally discovered the problem after many line tests and so on- the power lead to the internet box was not plugged in...It had been lost in the move, along with a great deal of my sanity...
But I am back!
The internet is up and running, and I wish I could...!
I will be putting up several blogs over the next few days, that would have gone up had I had the 'net.
The good news is, that Alex has till the 3rd October in the Oxford Centre for Enablement, and I, therefore have four months in this house, four months to breathe a while...It is the day before he had his accident, the 4th October 2011, so a significant date for us.
The kids ask how old they were when daddy had his accident, and nearly nine months on, they were all nearly a year younger. Lola's birthday is this Monday, and another of my babies turns a year older. Time races, although every day seems too long...
Here was the first letter I would have put up a while ago...
|My uncle and me 'racing for Alex' still urgently requiring funds...|
May 20th 2012
Washing machine drones, fairy frock, uniforms twist, remnants of the week and the day. Broccoli soup stains, butter engrained, washes away. Warm soapy bubbles cleansing, taking away, making new clothes to rewear.
If only life was like this! We put ourselves in a tub, got our insides, emotions, tears-soapy bubbled away, ready to re-wear ourselves, fresh and new. Ready to take on another day.
Today was so hard. You have had a haircut, the reminder of the hole in your skull floods back the flashback memories of the time just before your first operation. A time before you were whisked away, and nearly didn’t come back. You block it, and continue, block and continue, the masks, scrubs, hand sterilisation, machines, tubes, constant checks, machine keeping you breathing firing away. It was just 8 months ago, but feels years ago.
You were alright today, the kids had ‘crazy races’, on hands and tiptoes, wheelbarrow races, pulling themselves along the vinyl floors by their hands like snails. I commentate, you hear them, your laughter thrills, their giggles of delight and fun wash, cleanse.
As I cry I try and push out the pain, my need for your arms to strengthen, cradle and support me. I can’t explain to anyone how this feels. I can’t just soapy bubble it away, I have to pull through it…
Then I have to leave, you cannot take this, you tell me ‘miss you’ you try and tell me other things, they don’t come out. I cannot put a brave face, cannot turn it round with a quip. I cuddle you, your right arm holding me. It takes 25 minutes till you and I calm enough. And I have no choice as visiting does not permit to be there any longer, and the kids and I have to leave...
Oh baby, who you were to me, how it was, the daddy you were. Monty too, the girls, all cry the whole way home, I listen, do not cry, let them express. Monty tells me life is ‘boring’ now, he tells me it was bright and fun when you were around. They grieve, I grieve this old ‘you’.
I want it all washed away, all just put back to normal family life again. I don’t want to be without you. I WANT YOU……..
Who knows how long this will take? Who knows IF you will be back?
I wait, I pull through, wearing butter stained me. No ‘vanish’ to renew, just a collection of emotions I have to live with, plough through, and I ache. I ache so much for just you.
I have lost my best friend…let it be temporary...
Please come back,