In ten days my life changed in a way that can never be undone, that no matter what happens in the world - if there is global economic crisis, if I work or stay at home, if I keep going to gym or stop swearing in traffic, if Table Mountain shook, crumbled and fell and was washed away in the sea, if anything joyous, or horrific or wrenching happened, anything that filled me with awe or wonder or terror or love - at the centre of it there will always be one irrevocable thing - the death of my precious husband and the father of our child.
I've had about enough of people telling me how strong I am and how great I am doing during this awful, difficult time. I would rather hear someone say how terrible it is, how outrageous and unfair. Maybe it would be nice for someone to say that I don't have to be strong all the time. That it is okay to curse fate and weep, that there is no right or wrong way at a time like this.
Every morning I awake to a recurring nightmare, all I want is for it to end but I have to keep moving forward for the sake of our child. I have to attend endless meetings trying to wind up Duncan's business for the end of the year, talking, thinking, signing documents, coming home way after dark worn out and wishing his arms were there to run into and knowing that instantly he would be able take all this anguish away. Instead I have to sort out what needs to be done on the building site - we were in the middle of a major renovation at home - then I start with my own work and fall into bed around 2 only to start it all again at 5. At least I am too tired to think ahead for more than the next few hours.
And then there is Stuart....that little face, those big blue eyes asking for his Daddy.
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