I have been told that I need to get up and do something or go for a walk because I can't mope around all day as it just gives me time to think of you. So I can't just stay in all the time. It's alright and easy for them to say that because they have gotten over you dying and they have moved on and they are now able to 'get on' with life and 'do something'. But doing something is fucking hard. Because everything I do reminds me that you are not here to share the experience with. You are not here to hold my hand as we walk down the street. You are not here to grab a coffee with. There is just an empty space where you should be. There is an empty place where my hand should be fitted in yours, with our footsteps in sync. You are not here and doing something won't change this. It just illuminates the fact you're missing.
It was the realisation that most people will be able to move past this moment in their life and are able to live with you as a distant memory. Seeing friends move on is like losing a piece of you all over again. It's losing that life that we shared. I know that that life is already lost and has already been stolen but sometimes I like to pretend if only for a second that everything is just as it should be. Us against the world. But everything is falling apart. I am falling apart Perryman, and I don't do falling apart!
I went away this boxing day until 29th December. I came home and there was water pouring out of our home. Luckily our neighbours are amazing and helped me loads. But the house is now a little bit broken too, but luckily it's all fixable. I wish you were fixable. I wish I could fix you and bring you home.
Today is a cold but sunny day and I know you would be out on your motorbike. It looks like a good day for biking. I miss the sound of your bike coming onto the driveway in the early hours of the morning after you'd been on night shift. You would ride because driving back at that time of night is boring. I used to hear you coming as soon as you entered onto our estate and then rolled up onto the drive. I miss hearing the thump of your boots on the driveway as you opened the garage door and the squeak of your boots as you walked through the door and walked through to the kitchen to see what goodies I'd left you. I always listened out for you before falling into a proper sleep, just to make sure you were home safe. Except you never came home safely that night. That thought makes it hard for me to breathe and I have to change my thought quickly. But you never came home and you will never come home to me again.
This grieving stuff is hard. You have to muddle through on your own for 6 months before Drs will offer any help or way of surviving this. What I would like is a manual; when you feel like this... you should do this...kind of thing. But I'm just making it up as I go along. It has not been easier this week. In fact every day has been a crap day. Every day this year has been hard and to survive it, I've just waited the day out. It's worked so far.
I have been blessed with friends coming to cook for me, to make sure I eat something. Your friends have been phenomenal. I have a great friend who comes over anytime to keep me company when the silence gets too much. She has been a real support to me. I have another friend who was great and would also come over at any time in the evening so that I wasn't alone. I have a wonderful friend who messages me most days just so I know I'm not alone. This makes me smile. I have amazing friends who have booked me onto snowboarding with them on the off chance that I might like to go. I have friends who invite me round for dinner or invite me out of the house. These friends are like gold dust and their loving thoughtfulness at this time is huge. It is love like this that can be shown in such a dark time that makes me thankful and restores a small piece of my faith in God. Don't get me wrong. I still think God is a few choice words that I can't write here but there is a small glimmer of hope out there.
I have a whole mountain of jobs to do but I can't focus on them. I just think of you and it hurts. Just breathing is a challenge right now. This week everything is harder and I don't understand why. I think I might just crawl back under my duvet and sit this week out.
I want you here so much. I want you here to hold me and to tell me that everything will be OK. I want you to tell me that you love me and that you are forever mine. It is hard to grasp the concept that I will never hear you speak these words again. I love you Perryman...a little bit...A LOT!
P.S. I best go do something and not mope around (add sarcastic tone with twitching eye look).
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