Sunday, 30 March 2014

Dear Alex, Mothering Sunday.

Dear Alex,

Chocolates, wilted roses and a cup of tea in bed. I am staying away this weekend, and, the friend I am staying with is going through divorce, so neither of us was relishing the prospect of Mothering Sunday alone, hence my trip. Well in truth it was originally to look after my 18-month-old nephew for the weekend whilst my sister and husband went to Berlin, only she became ill and had to stay put.

The kids spoil me and my friend, and we eat soggy weetabix with strawberries and enjoy tepid tea in bed.

It has been a lovely day, I got to see my sister, and a very dear friend of ours too. My sister took me out for tea with the kids, and I am now back at my friends, kids tucked up in bed and about to pack to drive back down tomorrow.

Tomorrow is another big day. Tomorrow you move again. Back to the Care home you were in before going to the Intensive rehab place. We had a good review meeting, they have been pleased with your efforts, seen small improvements and will take you back again the future- their doors are always open to you were their words.

I see the positives in what they say, although there is obviously my heart crying out, why have you not improved more? much, much more? Why is it so slow and minimal now? Why have I not got you back already?

You have so far to go, and I have to be very careful not to address this too often, it defeats me.

Will I ever be able to get you home?

Tomorrow is a big day.

You move again, move back.

Not home.

They are trying to suggest when I can and a cannot visit, which makes me feel sick that as your wife I cannot just see you when I want, because it's not the best thing for you. I will, however, find a happy medium with me feeling I have made some decisions for you, rather than being told what to do around you.

Because my role as a wife, has been challenged as much as your role of being a husband has been taken away since you had your accident.

I don't want any of this.

I will run through my moments of gratitude before I sleep, try and pour gratitude into the daily void I feel inside the second I open my eyes in the morning, every morning, since I lost you.

Me xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

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