When I wake up, colour has disappeared. A phone ringing cuts through my sleep, but being only my mobile, I ignore it. You can do things like that when the world is frozen and your phone takes messages. Slowly my children surface and I throw open the curtains to reveal a world frozen, icy white.
No colour for me. Not today.
It’s the kind of weather that seeps into your bones and sinks fingers into your soul.
Frozen pipes herald the middle of winter, when you turn the tap and nothing but icy air appears.
Even as I warm up and the world defrosts, I feel frozen inside.
***
It’s like a clock ticking.
tick
tock
tick
tock
Twelve months ago she was alive still.
Twelve months ago we had nine days left. We didn’t see the countdown hanging over our heads, hiding just out of sight. We didn’t see it then, but I see it now.
***
I sink myself into my archives from June last year.
I survived that.
How did I survive that?
My body takes over and leaves me moving, one step at a time.
Don’t think, don’t count, don’t look at the calendar. Turn the music off, pull your eyes away from there. Don’t listen, don’t feel, don’t think about it. Keep your eyes focused, smile, laugh, your mind can’t go where you don’t send it. Be matter of fact, keep your practicalities. We need more sugar, who spilled the milk, where did that nappy go? What’s for dinner, who’s peeling potatoes, can I have a hand? Amy get down, Isaac shush, Mummy needs a moment. Don’t think, don’t look, don’t make any sudden movements.
We can do this.
One step at a time.
tick
tock
tick
tock
One step. And then another.
We’re moving closer and I’ve forgotten how to breathe.
***
What was I doing twelve months ago?
You were surviving.
How?
I don’t know.
***
Life is hard.
No wait, scratch that.
Living is hard.
But it’s also beautiful.
In just under six months, I’ll be where you are now. The difference is that my biggest concern lies with my own mother, and how she’ll be that day, when she’s reminded of her mother, my grandmother. She won’t be okay that day. It also makes me think that when it’s her time, I’ll know more of what you feel, and I’m not even willing to think too deeply about that, because you’ve conveyed a pain that I’m terrified to feel.
Yes, it is! Hugs.
*hugs*
and more *hugs* xx
Cheer up 🙂
I can’t imagine your loss, I haven’t been through that sort of loss yet, so I can’t imagine how you are feeling. But I can. Because you write it so simply but with so much feeling. I’m so sorry and I wish that when I held my breath it made it less for you.
yes also beautiful and spring will be back again in your thoughts, your garden, your heart, your memories
((HUG)) you’re surviving now, too. It’s just when you hit a tender patch that the pain is so great.
you write beautifully. hugs 🙂
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