Seven months on from the Day of Disaster.
Time has not flown and grief has not lessened. Day-by-day and hour-by-hour the mind mulls over events and feelings.
50 years of someone being the focal point of Life, resonates. Doing things in Remembrance of has become paramount. Nothing overtly intrusive, simple memories accompanied by 'what would he do?'
50 years of teamwork and only one of the two has now become the soul survivor.
After some 40+ years of teamwork and close companionship, tomorrow brings the final act in a life well-lived.
The be-all and end-all of my life, my raison d'etre takes his final earthbound journey. He that was my better half left me om the 4th of April in Whiston Hospital, Ward 2c where people go to die. Although doubtless hospital authorities would attempt plausible deniability.
7am on the 3rd of April and a wake-up call from the hospital telling me it would be a good idea to come in a.s.a.p.
No actual details, simply a brief phone-call.
Staying by his side except when he was taken to await a procedure, April 3rd passed agonisingly for us both. Various crises, he'd been given 4 and a half pints of blood overnight. Finally, in the early hours of April 4th his eyes rolled back in his head and he was no more.
Grief has taken over my apology for a life. He's ever-present as the mind struggles to come to terms with such an abrupt loss.
