Freewheeling

This is like freewheeling.

If you allow yourself some respite, you gain momentum, and in some way are able to pick up again where you left off.

I wish somebody had told you that - given you a sense of permission, so you could have given yourself some space; instead of always punishing yourself; albeit in silence.

I wanted to tell you, that as we predicted, the monstrous spectacle of your estranged spouse's behaviour rears its ugly head once again: she has now taken to claiming that your closest family members lie in wait for her as she goes to the supermarket and unleash torrents of abuse at her when she walks past.

This is intriguing to say the least, as when you were here with us in all your glory sweet man, she indulged this fantasy with you - set you up to go to the hospital and when you arrived, her equally deranged outsize sister was there hurling abuse at you, aided and abetted by her late, mother. I remember when you recounted this to me, I informed you that it sounded like a pikey sopa opera! And what surprised me was not the type of behaviour, but that you should have tolerated this for so long.
So convinced is she of her own deluded fantasies regarding this relentless imaginary abuse that she filed a police report, anticipating arrest and incarceration. Except, she forgot to check that your family were in the country at the time of the alleged incidents!

No surprises there, then, she continues to be as mad as the day you married her. My guess is that something has happened, somebody in authority has questioned perhaps her parenting skills, your son's ever increasing obesity, something; and now she needs a scapegoat.
If there is one thing we learned from your own story, it is how she never ever takes responsibility for her actions, and why should this be any different? I imagine she never stopped to think when she harassed and harangued you into submission, that she would need a replacement - that you fulfilled that need in some way, always shouldering the responsibility like the naive dutiful and frankly idiotic husband that you were; easier than fighting it all the time I guess!

Oh, and the story she fabricated to the officers in question - unbelievable! Like you had never left. How tragic your death was and how this cruelty would surely send her over the edge. Let's hope not, or the whole of Merseyside will be engulfed in a seismic wave of tsunami like proportions.

So I just wish, dear man, that you had learned to freewheel more, to not pedal so hard like your life depended on it. I wish you had come to understand that you were just one man with one will and one life, and for all that others say and do, we are only responsible for the officially dependent ones, not those who believe that there is a moral or emotional deficiency on their part that you have to prop up.

In the meantime, we try to allow ourselves a little space and time to freewheel, as the date of the first anniversary draws nearer.

And our sadness stays the same.

Half A World Away

And so we still survive you John.

Somebody asked me how I feel now that you are gone; I guess anticipating that I must have accepted your demise by now.

The answer is simple - the same! You are still dead and we are still waiting, to see if in some way you will ever return to us.

It is true to say that the legacy you left is great and all encompassing. We talk about you often and think about you more so; all for one thing: - to fill the void, to bridge the gap, to circumvent the abyss.

As they all told us, things are easier, life is easier. The struggle for control has in some way diminished, because in the end, our own sense of survival has guided us to the point where we can function again, on a daily basis; making the right noises, interjecting, interrupting, concurring, dissenting, assenting - all the interactions of life are there in place again. There is though, one thing missing: you dear man.

I want to tell you that the loss doesn't lessen, it takes its place in your psyche and reminds you now and again to think about the man who went before us and before his time.

In cliched style, I can tell you that there is not a day goes by when I don't think of you and all that you were and all that you gave us; and all that you took away.
And I doubt that will ever change.

Your death and you have changed me. I am not the same girl. I am not the same person. Difficult to articulate, let me tell you.

Sometimes I think I walk with a dead man.

Who isn't coming back.

Ever.