Monday, 28 October 2013
Dear Alex, I am longing for...
A tear of mine drips onto your nose, the rain pounds the ground outside, Oliver will not be with us much longer, there's nothing they can do...
I have an unwelcome email.
I have to deal with something in silence, one of the biggest things in my life and I cannot share it with you...not because I don't want to, but because you can't offer me advice, comfort.
My thought detached, disjointed...I have lost you in the worst way possible, you can be no emotional support for me, and how I long for that protection, that storng arm, that 'come here, baby, I'll see to the kids tonight, yuo have a bath, take a bit of time for you, I'm here...' How I long for support, comfort from you.
I am pleased you will be in the right place, if it turns out to be,
I am terrified for you.
But it is time to give you wings, try and force you into recovery, make you less dependent on me...maybe this will be what is now needed for you to excel?
I receive a parking ticket, even though I had bought a ticket, it had blown face down when the wind caught it when I shut the door...
Red eyed and wind screen wipers swishing at fastest speed, I suddenly am forced off the road, a car overtaking me nearly hits me...I carry on, heart pounding, one hand on Mitzi who came with me to the Vets in Somerset today. Panic stricken at other drivers' stupidity and the fact we could have been killed.
I cannot reign in these thoughts, all these thoughts I have and the experiences from today-my heart, as usual takes the strain as it tightens and palpitates and restricts my breath.
I am used to this now, I know it is not a heart attack beginning as I used to fear-but I cannot help but think that surely there is too much sadness at one point for a person to deal with, and I pray I am around for a long while to watch over and guide our kids.
What hurts the most is in seeing Oliver through his final weeks, it flags up the fact you are unable to comfort me or think of me and my feelings. How (although it is not your fault) it is all about you. The inability you have to think of me. How you have been stripped of the main thing that stabilises and enriches a marriage.
It is just me.
Many days it feels like everyone wants a piece of me...
Little me, heart broken, alone.
Yet I still have to look after you, write up a complete care plan, diet plans nutrition intake, how to encourage left leg movement, how to do speech therapy, and feel resentful at the fact we have to try this other tack...
Although I know, of course I do , this is best, this is what will ultimately help and equip you to move forward, I know how long it may take you to settle, and I am frightened you will feel abandoned, that I have given up on you...as you won't be able to reason or think it through logically.
For now I must get on with writing up the intricate care plan, through sore eyes at having lost you in the worst way possible, and at the fact our old faithful, my fluffy, loyal comforter will be around not much longer...
Posted by Manic Mum at 20:35