Monday, 25 June 2012

Dear Alex, tomorrow I'll be there with you again...


Alex 2 summers ago with his best mate from up north Karl Frampton



24th June 2012

Dear Alex,

Sun descending, hesitating to fall beneath the trees, warmth on my skin. Spider webs decorating the old wooden frame in the garden glisten silver, accommodating with joy the sun’s glow.


Love, I have been surrounded by this last week. A week I felt the noose of ‘how much longer can I drag myself along this path?’ straining ever tighter. Tidal waves of anxiety, grief washing through me with a force I thought may throw me down. Feet straining to stay grounded, not being washed away by the fury of these feelings.


So many people have passed by, just dropped by in the moments I have wanted the world to silently sweep me away. The times I have felt I can tread water no longer, a safety net of love from others has drawn me out, given me fish pie for dinner! Offered me a chat and a cuppa. And I haven’t scared people off, broken them! Even though these times I feel I may drive others away, who would want to listen to me? What joy or what light-hearted company can I offer? My fear of draining others, but all have just been there, cried tears with me, put an arm around me.


I have been so overwhelmed by the support. Just a phone call out of the blue, a message on the answering machine or a visit. I am sure these friends have no idea what the support has meant this last week…


Monty has been ‘not himself’. Usually smiling, easy, ready to listen. He has shouted, stormed, been angry. So Saturday, when we were all together I had to override all I felt, close the door on it again, be alright for them. The priority. The responsibility of only me. They represent how I am, a barometer of my emotions and how I am dealing with this. This I have to take on board. Simple things, the Saturday morning not rushing off to see you in hospital, but having rounds and rounds of marmite toast and milk, cups of tea, playing with lego, drawing, garden time. An unrushed visit later on in the afternoon did all good. And Scooby Doo watching, cuddled by each and everyone of them in the evening before they go to bed calmed and reinforced by normality, love, and that mummy was OK, despite having had a hard week.

A calmer brigade today, although I know I have to keep a close eye on how things are going…


From the very start I knew it was down to me, you had gone, they needed me as their stability, to love and nurture and protect, despite.


Refocusing this weekend has been a challenge, but now they are tucked up, each one, a hot water bottle (no, boiler still has not been replaced!) dirty, as we had no time for a shower! But teeth cleaned, last milk drinks, prayers and kisses encircled before they sleep-dreaming.


I hope to have a night with out nightmares tonight. I hope to have a week refocused, centred on progress, positivity and planning fundraising events for you…


All my love my man,


Sleep well tonight,


Tomorrow I’ll be there with you again…


Me xxxxxx

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