Friday, 22 February 2013

Wednesday, 20 February 2013

Dear Alex, Typing a Memory

Snowdrops have begun. Crocuses stand straight, stand tall. Snowdrops bow their pure white heads and I carry on, keys swinging in my hand, down the garden path.

This week you've managed your Physio, this is good news, last week you had none, you were too frustrated, too upset. It won't be like that when you're at home. Everyday we will do things, whether up at the local gym training with one of our best friends, whether I take you to Hydrotherapy, I'll be there to help you understand your world, be by your side all the time, not racing in to see you, attempting to solve a thousand issues whilst I am with you there, eating into my precious time with you before I race back to get the kids from school.

Life moulds us. Experience, situations, love, relationships, family, we are moulded out of all of that. This must be happening, this impossible, torturous, hideous, heartbreaking situation of not being able to get you home, to mould me for a purpose. I'm not sure why, but I know I can talk about heartache in depth, the physical pains which arise as the internal torture continues and needs outlets. I just have to keep my faith in the Most High.

A photo I see as I glance away from the computer screen, I search into it, it's colours, the almost tangible smells of the sea and sand stretches out, as four loved-souls run downwards towards their dad, towards you as you emerge from the sea having been for a surf.

And I remember how you would stand next to me, reach over to kiss me salty and wet, squeeze water from your nose your eyes and run your hand over your head. You would bury the tip of your board in the sand, standing it upright. Then you'd take the kids down to the water to play as you had 'promised me dad' and there you all play. And my eyes they squint, as they do now to keep back the tears, they squint in the glare of the sun, watching my man, my kids, our beautiful life.

And then here I am typing a memory. Writing again to you.

Filling the time till you are home.

How can you still not be here, where you need to be?

Not long now till Friday when we will have you home again.

I love you,

Me xxxxxxxxxxx

Sunday, 17 February 2013

Dear Alex, You Belong...

18th February 2013

Dear Alex,

Unseeing eyes search their darkness. My heart melts as I watch you, holding your hand. I promised I'd stay with you till you fell asleep, you had wanted us to go to bed together, but at the moment that can't happen, so you lie in your hospital bed in our dining room for the last night before you return to the Care Home.

Family time and stories being read, clay modelling and one paints, I am in your arm that works, leaning on your chest. I close my eyes for 10 minutes to enter your world. Hearing only the place I am in. And how strange it is, I feel so much more detached, it's voices not visible tangible forms. I glance up at you, in time to catch your face crumple, eyebrows buckle under weight of not being able to see the kids around you. Of maybe being more aware and understanding more than I give you credit for. I cocoon you in my love as we both cry. Understanding with no words.

I glimpse this weekend times you 'get it' times you are you, the you from before.

And it's an emotional time like I don't expect, I watch you as you sleep and you just look like nothing has ever happened. I get palpitations and chest pain as I see the old you the you from before, from times gone but not forgotten. From times as one, times lived long and together strong.

We will be back together, hopefully soon. I just have to be with you, have to have you home. We have to be together, it's here you belong.

And the tiredness I feel utter and real as I hardly keep my eyes open typing this.

The work involved, even with a carer! As I am carer no 2 so all that the carer does, I do too. I cook for 7, clean for 7, look after you the kids the dishwasher was on 4 times a day! The washing machine blew its fuse!

But I had you. I HAD you home!

I almost saw visibly, how the environment, the atmosphere full of family and your kids and me and friends and love and comfort, almost saw it working in you healing and nourishing you. Oh baby this is where you belong.

I know you will progress more, I see your potential. See how love, how prayer heals.

I love you, see you when you wake my angel.