20th June 2013
Twenty one months (almost) it has been.
Twenty one months of learning to cope with the unthinkable.
Of watching you kept alive by a machine, your life for 15 1/2 weeks on computer screens.
Of fighting MPs, government, state, and keeping us all going. Of fundraising and challenges and an ever invaded relationship, no more 'you and me'. Of extreme lows that I fought to come through for our four children. Of singlehandedly, bloodminedly determining myself and walking steady through insurmountable storms. Of counselling the kids, being their everything. Of parenting singlehandedly, running 5 lives and quashing morning anguish by finding 5 things to offer up thanks and praise to the Most High for before rising to face another day...
I feel heavy tonight.
Tomorrow I am going to Britmums live...an opportunity, an occasion I will relish.
Though I keep my head and my emotions most days now, after I say 'hi, yeah I'm good thanks, you?' I blink back tears and swallow down the fact I am in a rush again, to get our beautiful souls to school again, all routines by myself, to race off in the car to see you, never knowing what to expect.
Tomorrow is a day of meeting people, putting names to faces, meeting some of the people I admire.
And all the time you won't know why I am not with you, won't remember what tomorrow means to me, won't take in or remember any of the details I will share with you when I come back in to visit you.
I call at 9.30 every morning to let you know I am in my way, catch up with how 'get up' time has been. Arriving with you around 10.30. I call every night at 7.30 to say goodnight, that you're safe and to sleep well and I will be in in the morning again, as soon as the school run is over.
To love you, calm you, help you and facilitate ways for you to communicate, practising speech therapy, steadying hand and arm to try and form letters on a paper. Helping you feed yourself or trying to lift your spirits, make you laugh. Whatever you need me for, I am there...
To melt into your arms, if you let me near you...
People's lives tick on, 'it's almost 2 years now, she seems to be dealing with it fine' and I walk a lonely path.
I am blessed with friends, messages, emails, inspiring words or prayers people send, it balms, slightly, the constant ache.
Because Alex, you see, tomorrow I am up for an award in the category 'Inspire'... But it's bitter sweet, I wouldn't be there if I still had you.
I would be anonymous, happy, and have you at home to watch the kids as I went on a little 'mummy day out'.
I would be anonymous, happy, and I would still have you.