27th March 2013
'Oh I'm so glad you are here, help me please' you greet me with this tears streaming down your crumpled face, as I walk into your room at the Care Home. Your left arm has got into an awkward position and looks sore, as you cannot move it and your right arm seems to shake so much these days, and because you can't make known your needs, I don't know for how long it'd been that way. But you're crying and won't let go of me, and it is these moments, these moments so often I see, that stamp further, deeper in me why you need to be home.
I do nothing but worry about you when I am not with you, you are heavily dependent on me, for everything, to listen, to interpret, to be your voice, your comfort, your everything. And days like this reinforce how desperately I need you home.
I was late in because the relevant people who come to assess the house and draw up plans to extend the property and say yay or nay to the disability living grant descended en masse this morning.
I finally have the news I have been waiting for, yes it is possible, almost definite yes I will qualify for the grant. I should be happy, relieved, but as I hear them discussing about widening doorways, making a wet room for your bedroom, the reality of it all kicks in like a jagged sword through my heart and soul. I can't explain why, it's simply the fact that 4 people are discussing you and your needs and I just wish it was all back to normal. I wish these people were not wandering round with clipboards and pontificating areas for access and what you will and won't be able to access and where your equipment will be stored and why does it have to be like this?? Why isn't it all just back to normal now? Why can't you walk? Be like other husbands, other dads? I'm not angry with you baby, just, well I feel so heavy and I don't feel grown up enough to be doing all this on my own.
It's not good news anyway as they tell me it will be a minimum of six horrendous long disruptive months whilst they extend and make ready the house. I needed you home a long while ago, and this news sends me crashing. Six more months I have to wait. Six months takes us till October, at the earliest and as I type that and see it in black and white my tears fall again and my heart won't stop pounding, trying to pound out the pain, but it can't.
October will be two years since your accident, two years you will have been away from us, your family, the most precious thing to you in the world.
And I know I cannot do this till then.
So my long awaited news feels like total devastation.
Crushed, I have to carry on.
My heart breaking for another six months or more.
God, please open another door.