28th April 2013
I walk back down stairs and I hold you till your tears stop and you know you're safe enough in my arms to fall asleep. Then I walk slowly, quietly back to my bed without you.
Surreal it all seems at times, I occasionally glance in on my life from a 'how it used to be' perspective and stand there blinking, rubbing my eyes, but I still do not wake.
It's the dead of night as I type, no one stirs, the TV drones from downstairs as the carer watches it through his shift. And I yearn to be cuddled up next to you as I try to get comfortable and cannot. I think it's a subconscious reaction, I need you so much, need to be with you so much but cannot, so I lie in my bed, separated from you unable to sleep.
When we all went away I tried to sleep in the same bed as you. It's going to be a long time yet till that's possible...
Still, at least we are in the same house!
I just have never been very good at being patient, if I have to get from A to B, I just need to be at B, can't do the getting there bit! It's been a life lesson watching you progress so slowly. Patience is now ripening in me, although I still want you stronger and better and all of that now!
.... And then I get some deafening news, a friend who was in a very similar situation to you, a year on and not much improvement is back in intensive care again... Everyone unsure as to what this means, but he's not very strong, broken and fragile...
And it wakes me up, a slap in the face. I get frustrated it takes so much time, is such an effort to just get out the door, and yet I am looking at it all wrong, at least we can get out of the same door together, at least you get to sit in the car, we get to go out together. How different, how very different it could have been.
Patience rushes back as tears flood out the ingratitude for where we are at, and gratitude flows.
I love you my baby, how very lucky we are...