Saturday, 26 January 2013

Thursday, 24 January 2013

Happy Birthday Alex! 16 months on...

24th January 2013

Dear Alex,

Sheep huddle in snow thawing fields as dusk settles, underlining another day on this earth.

As the kids have been ill all week and off school, we all came in again today! The kids burst in with 'Happy birthday daddy 's and kisses and you have no idea it's your birthday. Nor how old you are, let alone the year we are in! You initially are quite disturbed by this and you cry. So I cuddle love and 'we are all here now' strength into you.

I watch kids sat, cross legged, playing 'Guess Who' and I let that love, that 'gratitude in the moment' rise, I feel it rise up in me as I watch and I love these souls of ours. That you and I made these?! That honour, pride, that we got to be together in this life and make these four amazing lives together! I am on your lap leaning over your shoulder watching them behind. Your head cuddles into mine. 

We have eaten the cake, your mum and dad are here too to share your day...Bet they cannot believe it was 34 years ago today they had you! And you ate cake, and two of your mum's home-made sausage rolls! The kids diligently made your cake yesterday, no scales, just adding free style, innocence of conversations 'Well, Daddy likes sugar, so let's put in lots of sugar, and Chocolate, let's make a chocolate one mum! He LOVES chocolate!...Ooooh this is going to be the best cake ever!'... And it is! Because they made it with love and you are far enough on that you are able to eat soft things!

The video of last year I replay to see just how far you have come in a year. We sing Happy Birthday round your bed. Kids eyes sometimes fearful and anxious as we try and be 'normal' around you. Candles are lit. But then, all you could do was occasionally communicate by blinking. Still in and out of a much less deep coma, but still, only edging back into the real world. I had no idea where we would be. Still told you would be only ever this way-only able to communicate by blinking, bed bound...No way was ever going to believe this! And look now where you are! Eating cake! And you sung 'Happy Birthday to me' as we sing to you!

I am welling over with pride today, for you, our kids. For our love, how it's striven to thrive and replenish brokenness and how it will and how it still does...And how I will always keep on pushing, praying, hoping for more.

Happy Birthday to my knight in shining armour, my whirl-wind romance no one thought would last! And my brave, wonderful, wonderful you, my man.

Me xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Tuesday, 22 January 2013

Dear Alex, Silence...

22nd January 2013

Dear Alex,

I have decided something today. Made resolute this thought. Resolved myself, steadied my heart (a bit), and I have made a decision.

I am holding out for a miracle. They happen, I know they do. I’ve seen that, even just through you. I’m kneeling down, holding arms outstretched, saying ‘Most High, this is impossible for me, there is no amount of thinking, worrying, drowning in it that will change it, I here, right here, right now, hand it to You’

There is no way this housing issue is going to be resolved, not by me, so as of today I am relinquishing stressing about it, and I have decided to trust. To wait. Really put myself to the test. Trust, calm and quiet, not raging and trying frantically to seek out answers.

I saw this:

And it rung so true.

And since this happened, 16 long months ago, finding that quiet, that calm whilst the storm goes on around me, that is where I know each day when all things flare and I flounder, that is where I try at some point to get to. To find God. Still calm voice, quiet calm. Silence resounding in heart, deep in soul and enveloping mind.

I have decided I am waiting for a ‘miracle house’!

Because how can I find one? I can’t. How can I change that? I can’t. This IS too big for me. So I’m handing it on, handing it over to God.

When it came to that time I had to leave today, and you start to cry holding onto me with your one arm that works, asking me why you can’t come with me? And I have no words.

And I have nothing. I can only squeeze you tight, tell you I feel the same pain too. Heart racing, talking through gulps that burn my throat. And when I leave and linger in the door way as I always do, your head droops once again. Eyes, unseeing, fix on the floor.

And this hurts.

Please God, that miracle house…

Me xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Dear Alex, Look at what you can do!

Sixteen long months ago, we were told he would NEVER do this again...intake fluids via his mouth, let alone by himself...

SO proud :)

Sunday, 20 January 2013

Dear Alex, Waiting, Hoping, Praying...

This year January 2013
When we first moved back, 4th February 2012

January 17th 2013

Dear Alex,

Snow thick and bright horizons, a black bird hops beady eye on me as I watch out the back door, appreciating the beauty early Sunday morning.

Yesterday I took the kids sledging all afternoon, there was never that kind of snow in France, we have never done this as a family before. You spent a year before I met you snowboarding and working in a bar in Chamonix! You would have loved the day we had today.

I sent an email to the Council in the early hours of Thursday morning, detailing the reasons I could not uproot the kids again, I couldn’t, do not have the strength to move and start again. I refused the House they have offered me. It’s an hour away from here, two from you! So how would I physically be able to commute 4 hours a day within a 6 hour school day?!

I want you home with all my heart, but to move, uproot the kids, make them distressed and unhappy- my priority has to be them. It’s like trying to get someone to decide which arm they would like chopped off…you know I want you home, you need to be home, I need us to be together, begin our new life together as a family, but it cannot be at the expense of the kid’s health and happiness, you, I know would understand that.

They emailed back, urging me not to refuse or they probably wouldn’t ever be able to meet our housing needs.

So I’ll stick with weekend visits, we will have to, as I wait and hope and pray.

The roads were not good today, but I made it in with 3 out of 4 kids to see you. I left Monty at a friends’ house, he is fever and headache and aches and wan. We can’t stay long, as the snow thickens and I’m not sure we’ll make it back.

Tomorrow I will be there for as long as I possibly can be! However long it takes me to get there or back…

This week, the 24th it’s your 34th birthday, you were 32 when this happened…

You are and always will be my very, very best friend Alex Wood, one day I am going to get you on a sledge!!

Me xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx