Saturday, 2 November 2013

Dear Alex, Photos I found of you...

Dear Alex,

Moss and grass on barely ridden roads, so raw, so uninterrupted the countryside and views which stretch to the heavens where bushes retreat and trees bow to open the magnificence of nature as we drive the twisting turning country road to the place you are.

You cling to me, as we, me and the kids, arrive, yet I am comforted by the buzz around you and the carers who all know you and understand already your speech. I am so happy to see you for only the second time since Tuesday. The kids draw, legs in air, sharing crayons, and with no prompting work together to draw a joint poster to put up in your new room.

The progress you have made in the past few months, as I have not seen you as much the last few days, I notice with such encouragement as to what the future holds. Even though you are tired, your stand as I assist in transferring you, is swift, you stand correctly and hold it with ease, the belt which has handles to support you either side, neither I, nor the carer takes any weight, it is all you! Your strength is increasing, and the smile, the beaming smile on your face when I tell you how incredible I think you are and how proud I am to call you mine, is the biggest you have smiled in weeks...

I can see, for sure, you are in the right place, I have no doubt at all in my mind. They are frequently carrying out the exercises with you throughout the day, and you are always around the other clients in there, not secluded, isolated, left on your own. Whenever I ring, there is always someone with you, and each person I speak to seems to be able to update me as to how the morning or past few hours have gone.

When it is time to leave, you cry out, holding me so tight...'Why can't I live at home with you and the kids?' You say so clearly...'Why am I not at home?' 'I don't understand what has happened to me and why I am here' I do not cry, not on the outside, I know you have to go through this. It breaks my heart, as I wish you understood.

Driving home, lights on full, wind screen wipers beat off the pelting rain. Rain sweeps across the road ahead, throws itself in all directions at the car, the world around us. My soul cries with yours. Branches and tricks of the darkness and rain make branches and hedges seem like they are reaching out, trying to grab the car, they sway and groan and reach, just as you do.

Alex, if one day you understand all this, my soul will sing forever, I am heart broken for you you don't.

I came across some photos of you I had not seen.

Photos of how you should have been.

Photos to make my soul weep.

Photos which will haunt me as I try and go to sleep.

So strong you were, so handsome, so real, so you.

I love you,

me xxxxxxxxxx

Wednesday, 30 October 2013

Dear Alex, How you are doing...

Dear Alex,

Storm has passed, though rain remains, it makes for an interesting half term week! This morning I woke up to a our basket of tights deposited crotchless, footless, legless strewn over the girls' floor, scissors guiltily hiding and 'what mum? it was such fun...' looks on two innocent kids' faces...They had been trying to make hair bobbles, I explain patiently that it is only with tights that have holes in that we do this, NOT brand new tights...Early morning heartwarming kid's mischief smiles. I fill myself with this.

I spent the night in cold sweats, waking in panic, thinking I could hear you, then realising you were not here. And worrying in the dead dark still of the night.

Our house again, without you.

Incomplete family.

Family without their dad, without husband, without you.

The kids have been very tearful, angry and saying they miss you. I realise I have to step up to the mark, not mope around, anxious and distracted, because I can deal with my pain, I have to, but the kids, they need me most. They need me doubly, to parent in double now you are no longer around for them as you used to be. Because the second you become a parent, it is no longer about you, it is about them, always, about them, no matter what...

I write them all notes last night, place them under their pillows with a chocolate. Notes to say how proud we are of them, how hard their little lives have been, how much they have had to deal with and that we love them through the planets and the stars and back again. I let them know how my job, my role as their mummy is to look after them, whatever that may entail, even through my own trouble (although I do not mention this, this is no for them to take on board). I tell Lola how brave she is for talking to me clearly about how much she misses you, and Monty how strong he is to cry out his pain and shout. It does not ever mean I will not love him or be there for him, I always will, he should never worry that I will not be around. Mitzi needs lots of verbal reassurance and huge cuddles. Esmie, in her loud behaviour seeks my attention, so I opt for reading lots with her and chatting about your new place and how it is like you are at work in the week, but you still live here, and are back every weekend. She wants to give you chocolate ice-cream when you are back, so we will go to the shops and get them all to choose a meal for you.

Your morning was a happy one, after lunch you just cried out, no tears, just that wailing you do...They tell me that they have identified two people already who you respond really well to, and one or two you do not. They are definitely trying all things I would hope they would. There has been someone with you constantly, every time I ring you are with someone, I am reassured, but struggling to cut the cord, struggling not seeing you, hoping desperately you do not think I have sent you away...

that is so far from the truth.

Baby, as you hurt, so do I, as you cry, so do I...As you shout, I holler at the Most High, as you sleep, I lie awake thinking of you...

Please God, keep healing the man I love, please bring more of him back...don't let him feel alone or that I have abandoned him...

me xxxxxxxxx

Tuesday, 29 October 2013

Dear Alex, That Promise...

Dear Alex,

Church bells chime, my window open, they chime their rhythmic tune. It makes me always, this sound, think of weddings, happy newly weds...I think only of you, feel the breeze coming into the room where I and two of the kids sleep...

And I think of you, strange room, strange bed, strange smells, different people, strange place and I pray that you are OK, as I lie, exhausted emotionally in my bed.

I wasn't going to write, I need sleep, to block out the pain of your not being soon as I left you at the new place today my throat starts to hurt, I feel a temperature coming on and my muscles ache. I walk out, close the door, reach for my grandpa who my aunty and uncle have brought up for the day to see us and look after the kids as I drop you off and settle you in. With views escaping from all corners of this old manor, I cuddle into him, feel his grandpa, old soul, love, as he sheds a tear with me and stokes my hair saying 'oh sweetheart, oh my darling girl...'

I can do nothing but weep.

It feels like handing over a new born and hoping they will raise this new born just as you need them too-so precious you are, so vulnerable, so dependent...

I am not going in till Friday, I have plunged you, and me, in at the deep end.

I have rung several times, you seem fine, tearful, frightened, but I know they are all used to this and are with you, they are definitely with you and looking after you, you even said when they asked you what you wanted to drink with your tea, for a beer! I know the first few weeks will be hell, both for you and for me.

I decorate your room, unpack your bags, glance out of the large Edwardian window and see that promise again, a rainbow... Over the fields it's beauty and vibrant colours pour into my hopes for you.

Know how much I love you Alex, that I think of nothing but you, that right now, I am thinking of you, loving you endlessly and completely...Please be OK...

Your wife, devoted, in pain, hurting, aching for you...

me xxxxxxxxxxx

Monday, 28 October 2013

Dear Alex, I am longing for...

Dear Alex,

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 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...

me xxxxxxxxx

Sunday, 27 October 2013

Dear Alex, You will excel...

Dear Alex,

You sleep. I have been out all day with some of our best friends, climbing cliffs, watching waves roar and winds tear through nature and the white splash of the waves blown through the bay. Hair blown and no amount of tucking it behind your ears tames, wild weather and wonderful friends and time in nature with the kids. Your mum and dad have been down for the weekend, so you had company whilst we were out.

Feeling refreshed, windswept and fatigued in a natural, physically exercised way, we come home and eat hot toast and soup I made yesterday.

The past few days you have been more alert and much happier, it has also been a refreshing change. Your standing when you transfer with the rotastand has been deliberate, controlled and your stance amazing, strong and disciplined. You can sit, without wobbling on the side of the bed, holding your posture with one arm to support you. I cannot help but smile, congratulate you and feel utter pride. I see how you can progress, with time and the right input, physically. Surely with this progression, this will help with your frustrations, as your brain realises it and your body are making advances in the right direction?

Tuesday is the day you leave for the rehab/care home, I have started packing your suitcase, and I am scared for you...I know with your lack of short term memory and not being able to see, the change is going to be so hard for you to adjust too, and I pray, I pray so hard that you settle and adjust well and swiftly, for your sake. This is the right thing, your working week, then home at the weekends...I know it is right, and how, given plenty of time you will excel.

I am a ball of nerves tonight as I prepare to take Oliver to a specialist Vet Hospital tomorrow in a last ditch attempt to see if I there is anything they may be able to do...I cannot face losing him, he is my old faithful, a part of our family, our family history.

So many prayers I will pray for this next week...

me xxxxxxxx