All I can think about is what is lost; all the experiences we were going to share, the pride I know I would have felt watching him be an endlessly amazing father and radiographer, the chance to be a mother, my career, my social life, my future.I spend all my time trying not to show Jake how broken I feel, crying when he’s not there and closing myself off pretending to be strong, positive and cheerful when he is. He’s got a brain injury, but he’s not stupid; he knows.
I’m sitting here now on the sofa in the lounge with hot tears splashing on my laptop, trying to bring myself back under control before I climb into bed with my Jake.I know this is grief, I know this is normal and necessary, I know it will pass.
But it hurts, in a way I can’t even begin to explain. I am burning at the centre of my soul and I want to close my eyes and sleep forever so I don’t have to feel it anymore.
But then my beautiful man would be all alone and that would be so much worse.So tomorrow is day 556 and I will get up and start again. Because I know this is grief and I know it will pass.