It was two weeks ago today that I came home to the biggest shock of my life - my husband of 16 years lay collapsed on the floor beside our bed. I'd only gone out for the afternoon to visit a friend and had left him having a rest with a particulary bad headache. Our two boys aged 13 and 10 were downstairs.
Despite the valiant efforts of the paramedics I think I already knew when I found him that he was gone....
Today would have been his 49th birthday!
In the last two weeks I've felt like I'm unravelling and everything is falling apart. Some threads are pulled tighter leaving me physically in pain. Other threads are so loose I'm in danger of letting them go.
And now we are snowed in - which doesn't help. I feel so trapped by the silently, suffocating whiteness that has obliterated the world I know. I can't get comfort from the normality of life, my routine has gone haywire, my only chance of a solo escape from these four walls is on foot.
Meanwhile the house, our home, has betrayed me with its leaking and dripping and breaking and cracking and moaning and rattling.
Maybe if I go to sleep when I wake up I'll find it has all been a dream....but so far that one hasn't worked!
Maybe writing this will help, I've got so many thoughts in my head and bits of stories and poems. I could end up tying myself in more knots or completely come undone and lose the plot!
I make no apologies for the drivel I might write. First and foremost this is for me but I wouldn't be here if I didn't want some company along the way...