Wednesday, 20 February 2013

Dear Alex, Typing a Memory

Snowdrops have begun. Crocuses stand straight, stand tall. Snowdrops bow their pure white heads and I carry on, keys swinging in my hand, down the garden path.

This week you've managed your Physio, this is good news, last week you had none, you were too frustrated, too upset. It won't be like that when you're at home. Everyday we will do things, whether up at the local gym training with one of our best friends, whether I take you to Hydrotherapy, I'll be there to help you understand your world, be by your side all the time, not racing in to see you, attempting to solve a thousand issues whilst I am with you there, eating into my precious time with you before I race back to get the kids from school.

Life moulds us. Experience, situations, love, relationships, family, we are moulded out of all of that. This must be happening, this impossible, torturous, hideous, heartbreaking situation of not being able to get you home, to mould me for a purpose. I'm not sure why, but I know I can talk about heartache in depth, the physical pains which arise as the internal torture continues and needs outlets. I just have to keep my faith in the Most High.

A photo I see as I glance away from the computer screen, I search into it, it's colours, the almost tangible smells of the sea and sand stretches out, as four loved-souls run downwards towards their dad, towards you as you emerge from the sea having been for a surf.

And I remember how you would stand next to me, reach over to kiss me salty and wet, squeeze water from your nose your eyes and run your hand over your head. You would bury the tip of your board in the sand, standing it upright. Then you'd take the kids down to the water to play as you had 'promised me dad' and there you all play. And my eyes they squint, as they do now to keep back the tears, they squint in the glare of the sun, watching my man, my kids, our beautiful life.

And then here I am typing a memory. Writing again to you.

Filling the time till you are home.

How can you still not be here, where you need to be?

Not long now till Friday when we will have you home again.



I love you,


Me xxxxxxxxxxx

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