Communication

At the moment, there are days when I can't remember my own name never mind things I have said or done in the past few months.

Soon after John died the Boys came over to see me. 

James, the youngest, is a landscape gardener and I asked him if he would re-turf the area of the back garden where the hens used to be. 

Of course, being his Dad's son, he said yes.

Today the lawn is being re-turfed.

Not by James.

I decided that I wanted the entire garden done, not just the area where the chickens had been. So, I went with it, I just wanted it done and out of the way.

I got a quote, employed a 'man that can' and it's now on it's way to looking lovely.

I forgot to tell James what I was doing.

I posted a couple of pictures of the transforming garden on to Facebook.

James and I had a brief text conversation.

I feel like shit now.

To clarify, James has not made me feel like this. 

I have.

Because I didn't tell him.

I also find myself moping around the flat.

I open a cupboard, a drawer, his wardrobe. 

I close them again.

I can't be bothered.

With anything.

Today, I just want to sit and cry.

Today I miss him a lot.

I have guilt about having the garden re-turfed - again, it's another element of removing John from our home.

I have guilt there's a strange man in the garden, in our home.

I have guilt about my non-communication with James.

I have guilt about buying new cushions and bedding.

I have guilt about buying new shoes.

I have guilt because I keep taking everything out on Max - he barks, I bark louder.

I have guilt because I am alive and John's not.

I have guilt because I'm "moving on" with my life.

I have guilt.

But no Husband.

I am trying, REALLY trying to be positive but the Demons in my head have got a firm grip on me and are dragging me down.


This song, a favourite of mine and John's has been on repeat for some time.....loudly (sorry neighbours). 
It sort of encapsulates exactly how I feel, how things are, how Iife is in our home.
Not exactly happy.

Tonight, I am going out with good friends for dinner and a drink (or 4).
I hope they're prepared.

Should be interesting!

Here Comes The Rain

How I feel this morning.......and it's raining!

A Vision

This morning, on the way to walk, I saw my handsome Husband....or at least I thought I did. 
It would not be melodramatic for me to say that I nearly crashed!!!!!


I was cycling to work, as one does, when I saw him waiting at the bus stop. 
There he was in all his finest. 
The mauve gingham shirt I love him in (it was THE shirt!). 
The chinos. 
The cute bum.
The salt and pepper hair thinning on top.


And then, 'Hubby' turned around.


FUCKING GUTTED!!! 


It wasn't him.
I couldn't believe it.


I could have sobbed right there on the road in front of the fellow commuters waiting for the Number 63. 
But no, I got back in the saddle and I carried on to work - my stomach, head and broken heart filled with confusion, emotion and most of all, overwhelming, aching grief.
Crying whilst cycling is dangerous kids, do not try it!!!

John loved this record.

I'm not ashamed to say that when I met John I wasn't in a good place, mentally. 
I'd not long come out of a violent relationship with a man I lovingly refer to as 'the cunt" (sorry Mum!). 
I was all over the place and John, being John, slowly but surely brought me back. 
He was there, he was always there.
He grounded me, he helped me find me again. 
When I met him I was really confused.
I was paranoid.
I was insecure.
I was full to the brim of low self esteem.


All these 'mental issues' have returned since he departed this life.
All of them.
I am not in a good place at all.
'Me' is lost and I cannot find him.


I, stupidly, sent a text to a very lovely friend today, a friend who came to see me one evening this week. This friend has been there for me for about the past 9 years AND through all this shite, never questioning, just doing what I needed, because she's so frigging wonderful! 
The text was full of paranoia, full of me being fucking stupid.
I wasn't horrid or nasty, I was just being insecure.
It was unnecessary!
Why I sent it I don't know but I was convinced that something was wrong, things were not right and I needed to make sure everything was alright.
Being the star she is, she ignored it and reassured me.


I feel like this 42 year old has regressed back to the immature, scared, insecure 20 or 30 something I once was. 
This is totally because John isn't here.
The 'voices' are soooooo loud, some days I cannot hear my own thoughts.
The demons are gathering and they're tearing my mind apart, feasting on my fucked up thoughts.
I don't know how to stop them anymore.
John did.


I had a motto when I first met John - 'Fake it until you make it'. 
I feel like my current life is all 'fake'. 
People come over to see me and I smile, laugh and nod in all the right places, but it doesn't mean diddly squat really.
I go out and I do all the right things, say all the right things, be the person people want me to be.
I'm not really there I'm afraid (sorry).
I'm off thinking about John.
Where is he?
Why isn't he here?
Why did he die?
When is he coming home?
Why am I alone?
Why did this happen to us?
Do I have to be at home on my own?


Today was a bloody shit day. 
I struggled mentally to hold it together.
It got worse as the day went on - I know not why.
The Boss was out of the office this afternoon and I spent the majority of it crying at my desk.


I also feel that at the moment all I am talking about is John or death or death or John or changing the flat or some such nonsense. But it's always the same subject......John.
I really want to change the fucking record!
But I can't.
It makes me feel guilty when people talk to me and it's the same old same old recently.
So I'm going to try and stop.
I need to talk about something else.
Really, I do.


In other news, the garden is being totally re-turfed on Saturday - I cannot wait!
Also, our lovely neighbours upstairs move out, they've sold and are moving on. I am gutted and I will really miss them. 
What really 'hurts' is that the new neighbours will only know me, they will never have met the amazing Mr. Ellis.....


That thought makes me cry!

For A Friend

Today, I received this message from a lovely friend.....a very lovely friend......(Names have been changed to protect the (not so) innocent from embarrassment!)...

Dearest Molly, 

I've been dwelling on the fact that its been many moons since we used to gossip at the reception desk at the zoo. And although I am thankful that we are in touch again now, I obviously wish it was with both you and Johnnie. 

However I must say, what a lucky man Johnnie was, to have met such a handsome, charming, and all round magnificent man. I am in awe of you, and the fact that although this time shouldn't have come, you have held yourself, and your self-control, in times when possibly no-one was safe from urges of strangulation. 

There is no doubt that you and Johnnie were one of the truest love stories that many of us will never know. I am so lucky I found *Derek* when I did, but you met your prince, whilst many of us were still kissing frogs, and the insights of the life you shared have helped many of us to strive to make our relationships better. 

I know you are surrounded by friends and family, and that at this time this is a rubbish consolation prize. But while I am here, and waffling slightly, and not making jokes, and generally being a dozy cow, can I just say, it is an honour to know you, and I reckon Johnnie was a bloody lucky bugger to have you love him the way that you did, and still do. 

It's no surprise that you have many dark times ahead, but I hope you know that no matter how far away we are, we are standing next to you, and fighting your corner. *Derek* worshipped Johnnie, and because of what you gave to Johnnie, the same rules will apply to you. He will always have love for you, and although he doesn't give many feelings away, he would do anything for you. 

And of course I will be waiting in the wings with daft antics and comments should you need me. Propping you both up by stapling my bingo wings around your hips, if *Derek* bear-hugs you too hard and you are about to collapse. 

Well, what else can be said that others haven't said before me Don't come to me for useful or financial advice. But skip the queue and get in my face if you need stupid, daft, or something to be said that makes you feel like you are normal after all. Xxx Ducky.

I read this today and oh how I cried.

I've never, ever thought that John was lucky to have me.

Never. 

ME?! 

Jesus Christ, I've never thought ANYONE was lucky to have me, never mind the Love of my Life!!!!!

For the record, today was a 'cry day'. 

Yesterday I think I was riding the crest of a beautiful 'Date with my Husband' wave.....

Today that wave crashed on the shore and I wept.

God I miss him!

The Morning After The Night Before.....

Last night I had a date with my Hubby.

We met at Penguin Beach in London Zoo. 

He was there.

I know he was there.

I could feel him there.

There were also lots of people there. 

We celebrated and said goodbye to my man, my incredible, wonderful, amazing Husband.

It was, as I thought it would be, emotionally painful but it was also incredibly empowering, knowing that all the people present were there for him, because of him, they loved him, they respected him, they missed him too. 

He. 

Was. 

Incredible.

There were emotional speeches from colleagues and then yours truly also said a few words.....I think I rambled. 

I needed to publicly thank some really important people who were there for me and the family, and continue to be so.

At one point in the evening I ran off to the Bird House (John's zoo "home") because I wanted to be with Him, to be with his Birds, to be surrounded by Him. 

It felt good.

It felt wonderful.

I was soon joined by Son No.1, and then shortly afterwards by Son No. 2. 

I like to think there was an element of celestial involvement and John 'engineered' that we would all be there together, the four of us, a family again.....I miss that bit so much!

Today I am calm, calmer than I have ever felt throughout the past couple of months. Although, I also miss him the most today.

Last night was the final public act, John is 'done', he is for want of a better phrase 'laid to rest in the eyes of our family and friends'. 

His physical remains will be dealt with very privately, just me and the Boys. 

We have already agreed the perfect resting place.

It is Perfect.

As was my Husband....perfect.

And so, today feels like Day 1......the first day of my new, single life.

I have boarded the boat.

I am floating down the river.

Let's see where the current takes me.

*EEK*

Celebration......

Tomorrow evening at approximately 7pm I can guarantee you that my stomach will be full of sick and I will be struggling to fight back the tears.

Those that knew John will know that he was a (fucking brilliant!) Senior Curator at London Zoo. Tomorrow is his 'celebration', his send off from the Zoo. It will take place, weather permitting, at Penguin Beach, an exhibit that John himself designed.

The funeral was a walk in the park compared to tomorrow. 
It was a process, nothing more. We said our goodbyes to a coffin (which I still do not believe was him).
We sang a hymn.
We said some words.
We had a booze up. 
It wasn't "John".

Tomorrow evening will be nothing but "John". 
He will "be there".
It's his place of work, in the exhibit he designed, surrounded by his colleagues and peers. The night will be 'drenched in John'.

AND, it will be a bloody large 'kick in the bollocks reminder' that he is dead. 
I don't want a reminder, I want my man.

I have been fighting back the tears all day today. 
A couple of people have seen a glimmer of my grief (thank you for listening Mrs. Forton-Holey!) but I am trying to hold it together. 

I feel the need to hold it together, I must try to hold it together, for my Husband. 

I have to keep reminding myself that tomorrow night is a 'Celebration'. 

But I can't help thinking that I don't want to celebrate.

I want him back. 

Alive. 


Then, and only then, will I celebrate!

Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes......

I thought I was getting somewhere with the making of decisions. 
Deciding and changing, changing and deciding.


In fact I'm not. 
Getting anywhere that is.


Instead, I find myself making decisions and then they bounce around in my head for a bit and one day I wake up and think "No, that's not what I think I will do now". 
It's getting most frustrating, almost tiresome, indeed it's wearing me down.





Decisions I thought I had made have now been unmade and put back on the shelf for further thought and consideration. There were, I say WERE, definite decisions I had made for mine and the dogs futures, they were firmly set in my head and that was how it was going to be. 


No longer.


Once again, I KNOW it's only early days and John has not been gone long and perhaps I shouldn't be making decisions yet - but grief affects everyone differently does it not, so why should I be any different? 
But this is how I do things. 
I'm a PA (let's not forget Britain's 2nd best PA!!!). 
I organise, arrange, file, sort, order, complete. 
I don't mull over things, make decisions and then un-decide them.
I don't faff about. 
I decide. 
I do.
A place for everything and everything in it's place.
I WILL HAVE ORDER!


This un-decision making is not me. 
IT'S NOT ME!


I'm of the opinion that I am possibly trying so hard to make so many decisions that perhaps, just maybe I should stop trying so hard and stop making any decisions at all.


Life is like a river.....I need to float down that river and see where the current takes me, I don't know what's around the river bend (Good god I sound like Pocahontas!), perhaps it's something good, something positive and perhaps (stop saying perhaps!!) I should just let Life make the decisions for me.....
Life took the decision to take John from me (I'll never forgive Life for that little corker!).
Life is making ALL the decisions.


Life, I am at your mercy......be gentle with me, I am broken-hearted, fragile, afraid and scared.

32 Days

That's how long you've been dead my darling Hubby - 32 long, lonely, sad days.

I have cried every single day since you fell ill on 19th April and I am sure I will cry more. Some days I have sobbed and sobbed, some days just the odd tear, but cry I have and cry I will. The loss of you can be completely intolerable and there are times when I struggle to breathe, let alone get on with life. But as you used to say, life goes on so get on with life. 

I have moments when all I can do is think of you, look for you, want you, need you. I want to talk to you. I have GOT to talk to you. We haven't had a conversation since the day you fell ill. There are important things I need to discuss, things that I have to decide and I can't make these decisions without your advice, your permission, your say so. I'm making changes and I need to know they're the right ones, for me, for the dogs, for you and me.
Friends and family cannot help me, I need YOU!

I look for you everywhere but I don't see you anywhere at all. I am surrounded by our life but it feels like I am a lodger in our own home. I'm trying to change it a little bit so that it doesn't feel like I am in a 'John Ellis Museum' but I feel guilty for doing it, terribly guilty. Is it too soon or am I doing the right thing??? I don't know, it doesn't feel right or wrong, just weird.


Last night I moved a picture in the bedroom and I sobbed because it's not where you wanted it. Here I am whining and moaning that I am 'deleting' you, removing you from the household administration and I am doing the self same thing to our home, I am slowly 'deleting' you, making it my home, not our home. 
I feel so horrible inside, it makes me feel dreadful.
I'm sorry.
Please forgive me.

 

Why is it that I don't speak to you now you're in the flat? 
Perhaps because I don't think it's you in that container.....perhaps it is but I don't "feel it". 
I only speak to you when I'm walking the dogs, maybe because that's where we did our 'talking', where we put the world to rights, shared our days at work, moaned and bitched, got excited about future travel plans, seed choices for the allotment, told each other 'I Love You'. I WANT to feel you in the flat, I want to know you're here with me, I NEED to know you're here with me. Is it wrong to say that I want you to 'haunt' me? it sounds stupid saying it. Believe me, I don't want the whole Demi Moore/Patrick Swayze thing going on, the clay would ruin my clothes and the laminate flooring, but please, if you're around, make your presence felt......PLEASE!

I've never NOT talked so much in my entire life. 
You're not here to talk to. 
Max and Millie are great cuddlers, but they're not so great at conversation! 
People call, text, email and visit but they're not you. No disrespect to our wonderful friends and family but I want to talk to you. 
Sometimes I have a feeling of 'not wanting to burden them with my grief', I feel I have to be upbeat and jolly, not cry, not be sad, not lose it. It doesn't serve me (or them) any positive purpose.......does it/would it? 
Who knows the right answer. 
I don't have any answers anymore.

Fading Away

I can feel it you know, I can.....


I can feel my wonderful marriage, what is now essentially my previous life, slowly (not that slowly either) but surely fading away. Things are-a-changing and I have no control over them whatsoever, they have to change. 
It is inevitable.






John's financial responsibilities/debtors (of which there are many!!!!) have all been informed. The household bills have all been changed to solely my name. He has been 'deleted', removed from our life and it's now just my life. 
No longer us, no longer a marriage, no longer a partnership, it is just me. 
I am now single.
How completely and utterly fucking depressing is that?! 


One must 'start again' and I have to say, one really, REALLY does not want to. I'm not talking about men/relationships here (not yet!), I'm talking about life in general. I have to start doing everything on my own.
Going out/socialising alone.
Shopping alone.
Walking the dogs alone.
Tending to the garden alone. 
Living in our home alone. 
Sleeping alone. 
Alone, alone, ALONE!


When I come home from work there are two fabulously waggy little bums who greet me at the front door. I love the dogs I do, BUT.....they're not great conversationists and I really would like to have a conversation with my Husband. 


I want to tell him about my day.
I want to hear about his day.
I want to pour him a G&T/glass of chilled dry white wine.
I want to tell him I'm madly in love with him.
I want to tell him he looks damn handsome and I want to rip his clothes off.
I want to tell him to stop farting. 
But I cannot.
Ever again.
Ever.


I've drunk too much wine.
I should go to bed.


If only I was going to bed with John....if only!

The Monster Under The Stairs

We have a cupboard under the stairs. It's where the vacuum cleaner and iron are kept. 

It's also where all our shoes are stored.

Every time I go in there I am greeted by John's shoes.

They were starting to really piss me off.

I have just got rid of them.

I have wondered for a while what I should do with them, knowing that the moment was building within me when I would say to myself "Enough is enough, they've got to go!". 

I decided that I didn't want them going to a charity shop - would I want to see my Husband's shoes on another local man's feet? No I bloody well would not!

I have 'recycled' a couple of pairs for me - he has a pair of hardly used trainers that I will use for cycling and there are some lovely shoes that are hardly worn which I will wear, and every time I do, I will think of him.

It wasn't a process I particularly enjoyed it has to be said. It's just another element of John that is leaving me, being removed from my/our life. Slowly but surely he is being 'deleted', less and less of him is around me and I truly HATE it! Yes, yes (before you say it) I know I have memories, material things and photographs to remind me of him but I don't have JOHN. Memories and photographs cannot be hugged, kissed, cuddled or made love to, can they? They don't give any form of comforting emotional attachment, they're just a memory or a photograph or a material thing, nothing more. They remind me he is not here, that I can't hug him, kiss him, love him, touch him. You can't have a conversation, a laugh, an argument with a 'thing'.

I'm sorry but memories and photographs and material things are doing fuck all for me, absolutely fuck all.

Everything in our home reminds me of him but they're not physically him.

I want John, I need John. 

Pure and simple.

And before anyone says "You have him with you now".....

I frigging well don't! 

As far as I am concerned, all I have is a container with some remains in that I cannot believe are him. They're not him, they're not John, they're not my Husband.

I want the big burly bear of a man I fell in love with, not some fucking dust!





However, in the grand scheme of things I am doing ok. Don't get me wrong, the above words ring very true for me at the moment, but I do feel ok. I have my moments, which for the most part, I keep to myself. I prefer to 'lose it' in private if I can. I'm not a fan of letting go with or around people, it feels silly and makes me think I am being 'weak'. 
John wouldn't want me being upset and crying all the time, so I try not to....for him. 
Because I love him. 
Because I will always love him.
Always and forever.
Without question.

He's Home

He's Home.

My handsome Husband, my lovely Man, the Love of My Life, my Best Friend, has come home.

John is here.

Apparently.

How do I KNOW it's him? How can I be absolutely sure that the rather unattractive container that I have just collected IS him? How? 

I can't.

I must one day accept that he is in there, that it is him.

Can't.

Shan't.

Won't.

When I sat down with the Clerk who gave me John, I started crying and she said (without even looking at me) "He's gone to a better place". I sat there for a second and I thought "Really, you think Death is a better place than being alive, healthy, happy, do you?" It was all I could do not to scream in her automaton little face "NO, HE'S NOT IN A FUCKING BETTER PLACE YOU STUPID INDIVIDUAL, HE'S DEAD, HOW IS THAT BETTER?!?!?!?!"

Instead, I thanked her for my Husband, signed the necessary forms, grabbed the carrier bag with him in and stormed out.

Eventually, John will go to a special place, a place that The Boys and I have already agreed upon. Until then, he will stay here with me until I am ready to either accept that he is dead or ready to let him go, whichever comes first.

I opened it, the container.
I wanted to smell him, to get something familiar from it.
Nothing.
I got nothing.
It smells of nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
Which, coincidentally, is how I feel inside now John has gone.....nothing.

Following his collection I had to make a stop at the Funeral Director's to collect his Passport which had come back with him from Germany. Liz, the administrator lady was lovely, she has been since Day 1. We had a chat, I cried, she nodded knowingly, I cried, she gave me John's passport, I cried.
We parted and as I left I said "I hope I never see you again".
She smiled, rubbed my shoulder and shut the door behind me.

The funeral process is over.
Finished.
The End.

The Way We Were...

Today, while going through my old emails at work, searching for reminders of my life with my handsome, wonderful Hubby, I found this marvellous picture taken at our friend Raymond's 80th birthday. Raymond sadly died in April not long before my man fell ill (Death is everywhere!). 

Indeed, our amazing Civil Partnership ceremony was in the grounds of Raymond's lovely home, surrounded by his magnificent bird collection. A day I will never, ever forget for the rest of my entire life.

This picture was taken in the Music Room.

For me, it just goes to prove the illustrious circles that my man moved around in. 
Who chats, drinks and has a laugh with SIR DAVID of an evening?!?!?!?!?! 
Oh yes, WE DO (er....did!).

Hubby drank, cavorted, danced and socialised with Legends, he was friends with living Legends, he was and always will be a LEGEND!

You (and He) will never, ever know how much I miss him and long for him. I crave a cuddle on the sofa, a hug, a kiss from his soft lips, a look from those beautiful blue eyes. 
I'd even take a smelly old man fart right now quite frankly. 
Something, ANYTHING!

The gut-aching, heart-crushing, all-encompassing pain of loss is torture. I no longer love my job. 
Working each and every day in a hospital is just hateful. It really is. 
Everywhere I turn, be it at home or now at work, I am reminded that Mr. John Arthur Ellis is no longer with us, no longer with me, apparently no longer alive.
Death's cloak blinds me to all and everything outside of it's pitch black darkness.
I am smothering and suffocating in Death.

Don't watch this, just listen!

Oh, by the way, I collect his ashes tomorrow.......

Would that be another THURSDAY?!?!?!?!?!?!

A Lesson Learnt

What is it they say? One should never assume....it makes an ass out of u and me....

I learnt this lesson the hard way today.

Upon my return to work I assumed that everyone would know, that I wouldn't have to tell them that my Husband was dead. 

How frigging stupid can I be?! Of course they wouldn't all know. 

And in fact they didn't.

I was having a perfectly pleasant work related email conversation with a lovely colleague at Head Office....perfectly pleasant until she replied to one of my emails asking "How's John, is he recovering well?".

I read it, then I read it again and all of a sudden it felt like my world had fallen out of my arse. I took a deep breath, muttered something along the lines of "Oh No!" and sobbed, right there, at my desk (Cue my amazing Boss to the rescue!).

My poor colleague may as well have gouged out my innards with a blunt spoon.
The only thing to do was to call her.
I wasn't going to give her the bad news via an email.
Much too insensitive.

And so a lesson was learnt.
Not everyone knows.
I'm sure there are people that should know who still do not.
I will just have to wait for them to make contact, ask the question and then take it on the chin.
Again.
And again.
And again.

My name is John McKenna, I am an emotional punch bag - hit me up!

In other news, Maximillian Sydney Bruiser McEllis managed to hold on to the contents of his arse all day today......AND tonight, for the first time since I returned to the UK, I will be cooking something fresh, from scratch, by myself (thank you to the wonderful Bella for the crab xx).

The Return to Work...

I have spent the last few days dreading this morning. 

I was worried about it all weekend.

I went back to work.

The last time I cycled to work it was raining cats and dogs. 

Today was no different. 

I got drenched.

The waterworks did not stop upon reaching the office. 

As soon as I saw my Boss, my wonderful, amazingly understanding Boss, I cried. 

He let me get on with it. 

He sat with me. 

He waited. 

He understood.

I pretty much cried most of the day on and off.

Working in a hospital has, in the past, been a joy and I have really enjoyed my job. Today, all it did was remind me of being in Germany with John and my daily visits to the Critical Care Unit. Indeed, I walked into our CCU to speak with a colleague without even thinking where I was. When I realised where I was I had to leave immediately, I felt sick to my stomach and started crying. 

All I could think of was 'John died in one of these'.

And so, as well as being particularly unhappy at home, I now bear the cross of working in a hospital that I am not happy in. 

I do not want to be there. At. All.

All it does is remind me of John's illness and his ultimate demise. Death's cloak wraps ever tighter around me and I feel as though I am suffocating in it. I had to fight for breath a number of times today for fear of standing there and sobbing.

My colleagues have all been wonderful, welcoming me back with hugs and 'the right words' but without being overly emotional, as requested by yours truly. They're a bloody good bunch!!!

Being at work did not 'take my mind off it' as some thought it might, it's only focused my mind further, what with being in a hospital every frigging day!

Nearly every weekday at lunch time I would go out for a walk, a breath of fresh air. I'd call John and we'd have a chat, compare our days. 

Today was no different. 

I called his office. 

He did not answer, his fantastic PA Jackie did. 

We had a cry.

We had a chat and I was talking about my non acceptance of John's death. Because he went away working abroad that's how it feels to me, he's away, working, which indeed he was. I don't know if I will ever accept that he is dead. 

I look for him everywhere I go, a glimpse, a sighting....he has got to be here somewhere. 

I just have to find him and bring him home. 

I still want to go and check the hospital in Bremen...just in case...

His white wine is chilled and waiting.

As a special 'I missed you Dad' welcome home, Max decided that he would have a smelly pile of poo waiting for me in the hallway....!!!!!

Now, where's that phone number for Battersea Dogs Home?

I Feel You

I spent last night and woke up this morning wrapped in the warm, furriness of my Husband, it felt wonderful, comforting. 
The manly scent of his body was intoxicating.
I was cocooned in his warmth and love and everything was good. 

Touching him, feeling him, I had missed it so much and longed for it again. 

I felt so blissful and happy.

I woke up on his side of the bed for the first time.

It wasn't him.

He wasn't there.

How do I feel? 

Like the pieces of my broken heart have been scattered across the floor and have been stamped on by heavy boots. 
My stomach is churning. 
The worst feeling.

One thought and one thought only has been going through my mind since Dr. Gemsa emailed me.
She didn't once say he WAS dead. Not once. 
I know I am in denial and I need to accept the fact that John is dead. But I can't. I really cannot. His shirts are ironed, the wine is in the fridge and his drugs are all stocked up and I am waiting for him, he just needs to come home. 

I really, REALLY want him to come home.
He has to come home.
It's not HOME without him.


I went out this morning with our friends Mark and Paul, we visited a garden centre and it felt good. I felt 'happy', I was doing something normal, something both John and I really enjoyed. Then I came home, walked into the bedroom and it all came flooding back in vivid, gut-aching, mind-fucking technicolour!

John's pillow....

This acceptance of which everyone speaks, the acknowledging that the person you are madly in love with has died, that they're gone, they are no more. 
How on earth do you do that? 
Where do people find the will, the strength, the knowledge to wake up one day and say to themselves "I now accept that the love of my life is dead and I will try to move on with my life"? 


How, how, HOW?! I don't bloody well want to move on. I don't, I don't, I DON'T....

I WANT JOHN!

Time is obviously a factor. I am obviously very aware that John has only been dead since 17th May, not even a month yet. However, there must come a point, a time, a realisation where I don't wait for him, I don't prepare, buy and sort things for his home-coming. 
And to be honest, the preparation, the buying things, the ironing, it's all making me feel ever so slightly unhinged. 
I'm feeling a little crazy. 
The anger is still really close to the surface and I am struggling to fight the urge to smash stuff, destroy things, tear things to shreds.....it's bubbling underneath like an alien about to explode from my chest.


(Do not worry, the dogs are safe!).


Instead, I will go and make a cup of tea and have a peanut butter sandwich.