Sunday, November 29, 2009


I'm so nervous.

I'm almost in tears.

The child is safely tucked up in bed, having requested "Once there were giants in our house" which is a tear jerker in the silence of my room.

There is a gut wrenching denial of the fact that tomorrow I go to hear how he died.  There is a hatred boiling for those who cannot be bothered to be there, but want to benefit from his death, because all he was to them was a source of money, or a source of derision, or both, and now their greed is really showing.

I've just typed in an email to someone "It will all be fine.  It has to be.  There are no other options."  because it does have to be.

Right now it will never be fine again - how can it without him here?  How can it?  How can anything every be completely right again?

I'm not stupid, I know it will be, I know all that stuff, but right now none of it matters and I want him here, I want him to hold me and tell me it will be ok, and tell me that he loves me, and that I am his wonderful gorgeous darling, his amazing girl, his playmate, all those things.  I want to hold him and feel the strength inside him, feel his emotions, feel his energy.

And I can't.

So I'm sitting, almost in the dark, crying softly whilst I type.

Not being strong.
Not being brave.
Just being.

I will find my game face for tomorrow, and I will smile and I will be polite, and caring and lovely and all the things I am, but that gliding swan is for tomorrow.  Tonight I am a duckling, paddling like hell to stay afloat.


The countdown is still on.


Last night I found some paperwork.  It's important, this paperwork, because it makes something very clear.  And if it's as clear to others as it is to me, the boot may well be on the other foot.  Oh yes.

The question is, what would I do with that knowledge?  What could I improve?  Well, I could stop the arguing, and that would be nice for everyone.


It's just SO clear though.  SO clear.  It's the paperwork we were all looking for, and it was here, in his folder.  It's all dated and so forth, so it's all valid.


I'm going to sew tonight, to take my mind off of the feverish speculation.  If I'm wrong, nothing changes.  If I'm right? I'll be making a couple of polite enquiries, then seeing a solicitor.