A year ago today my Husband's body was flown home from Germany to London.
As with all the 'anniversaries', today is a day I will not forget.....
I spent the majority of it in the Funeral Director's office in Honor Oak Park, hoping and praying that the minute John's body touched UK soil the Coroner wasn't going to insist that John be subject to a post mortem......he'd been through more than enough already!
It all turned out 'ok' in the end and John was left in peace.
A few days later I requested to see John.
They refused me.
He'd 'gone too far' and I was advised that it wouldn't be a positive experience and so they denied me access to the man I love.
I was sobbing, practically begging them to let me see him.
I NEEDED to see him, to know it was him, to see with my own eyes that the man everyone was telling me was dead, WAS my man!
They didn't let me.
So.....I ran home, I grabbed photos of him, I ran back.
I didn't tell them he had tattoos so I asked them to tell me if the body had any tattoos, what they were, where they were, and I also asked them to confirm that the handsome man in the pictures I was holding in my shaking hands was John.
They described his tattoos perfectly.
It was him.
At that moment, in that office, my world crashed to the floor.
I stood there and I sobbed and I sobbed and I sobbed.
Not because I got confirmation that he was dead.
Because I would never, ever, ever see him again.