Monday, 23 September 2013

Dear Alex, A Distant Memory.

Dear Alex,


What's the point? I think, in going to bed? To have dreamed for 2 years of having you in the same bed as me. To have dreamed it would be as times once were, sleeping, together, legs entwined.

What's the point in going to bed? To lie there if you sleep, daring not to make a sound, lest I should wake you and the horror of an awake you and your demands, 'get me food' 'get me a drink' 'sit down there' and anger ensues if I am not apparently sitting in the exact place you want me to sit.

What's the point in going to bed, when you lie there agitated, demanding, grabbing at me, shouting, swearing at me.

How is this a dream come true? Us finally in the same bed again together, when this is what it entails. Hour after hour of this.

I have put the washing machine and tumble drier on, in the hope it may drown out the sound of you. I sit at the table and type out some of my fear, angst. I do all I know, type, type a letter to you. Only you will never read this.

You will never know.

Never understand that I need you to just be you, need you to consider me.

The kids rush in from school, happy you are back, only there's no interaction- you just ask them where I am, no interest in them, it is only where I am.

They are little, they don't understand, I hope to goodness it goes unnoticed, your fixation on where I am. It is always like this, with everyone you are with. 'Where's Tamsyn?' on repeat. Seconds after I have cuddled you, I am only ever doing something for you or the kids. I am never far.

I pray to the Most High for more understanding for you, and more patience for me.

Because at the moment, you are far away. A distant memory I dare not look at. An impostor, it feels, in the house.

How guilty I feel, how heavy is my heart.

Please God, please, help him understand, help him rest and sleep, because I need to too.




me xxxxxxxxxxx

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