AM
Sark told me to keep writing, no matter what. So here I am writing.
I feel like I’m treading very carefully through a minefield at the moment. When I watched you drive away I let out one last sob and then I stopped – I had to or I would never have stopped. I can’t think about what is going on at my core, I’ll go mad. So instead I have come inside and started writing.
I am shortly going to remove all the dead flowers from the house, something I should’ve done weeks ago really but never mind- I am doing it today. Just being in the moment, one task at a time, allowing myself to be guided by the visual as opposed to thinking. I spot one thing that needs doing – 1. Flowers and then do that and then move on to 2. Empty Dita’s bowl and so on. I know I have the to – do list that you wrote for me but I can’t look at it just now for fear of the tears being unleashed.
I hope you don’t think it’s selfish but I cannot think about you right now, you’re there alright in my heart and my mind but I can’t home in on it. Not today, not just yet anyway.
You know when I picked up the purple bunch of flowers to throw them in the bin I was completely amazed by how light they were – like they were just made of air and dust. They were so heavy on my birthday when they were fresh. I found it quite fitting really that they looked virtually the same, just a bit brown, just aged but it wasn’t until I picked them up that I realised just how much had gone on behind the scenes. I feel a little bit guilty for not paying them more attention.
I did really well for a while until I found that you’d written “I heart you” on the steam in the window. It caught me off guard as I was walking down the hallway. I looked up and the sun was coming through the glass and there it was. I stopped breathing for a second. Your essence all around me… but I wanted nothing more than to hold you in that moment, show you how much your thoughtfulness means to me, show you that I love you too.
PM
I have felt a bit like those flowers all day – virtually the same on the outside but hollow behind the scenes.
I went to spend the afternoon with Anna who gave me a big hug on greeting. I had been standing outside just trying not to think how much it pained me that it wasn’t you I was waiting for and it wasn’t you that was about to come out of the door. Time with Anna was lovely – I was so grateful to the distraction. She had asked me to bring a selection of “go – to” films, I took Calendar Girls, Mamma Mia, both versions of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and Matilda. In our usual indecisive nature we struggled to pick before I said we had to watch Matilda in your honour. It was a bit of a bitter sweet moment. We both truly wished you could’ve been there but we spoke about you often and texted throughout. I kind of didn’t think again to be honest. I focused on the sensation of being in Anna’s living room, somewhere new, and chatting about idle things, getting to know each other a little more.
I struggled when it was time to go home. I told Anna I was happy to get the bus. I wanted to push myself. I didn’t cope too well with the journey truth be known. Everything feels so loud and busy – even louder and busier when you are just by yourself with nothing to do but notice. I held back tears when I thought about how you used to hold my hand on the bus when I felt anxious or upset and I knew I was safe then. I put my sunglasses on instead – like you would have told me to do, so I felt hidden and protected from the world.
I think the thought of coming home to an empty house was just too much. I felt suffocated. I have really felt all day like I can’t breathe – it’s the only way I can describe it. I just thought about how hard today had felt and the usual solace in these situations was to come home to a cuddle from you… and you just weren’t going to be there. You rang me as I waited for the bus and I felt like I couldn’t speak, I wanted to lie on the pavement and cry until there was no water left in my body to cry out … but of course I couldn’t.
I got off the bus and found a pheasant feather. I picked it up, not quite sure why, but it felt important to take it home so I did.
I got in the house and the sobbing started but then it was the most wonderful feeling to be able to speak to you on the phone. It hurts so much to hear you crying too, it hurts so much to know that I can’t hold you and make you feel better through all this difficulty and fear. And it hurts that you can’t hold me too.
But this is day one done.
One day closer to you being back home ... and free.
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