pedicure

Today I came to see you. All dressed up, and clean. And I painted your toenails, as I wanted to, which has to be one of the most surreal experiences of my life to date. But that was just functional. Albeit essential. And purple.

And then I was allowed some time with you. I wish I could say you looked absent. You didn’t, not enough anyway. You just looked asleep. Holding your hand was still your hand, even it if was a cold hand. When I hugged you, you still filled the same space in my arms, and in my heart. You were still too much you whilst not being you at all. I just wanted to stay there with you forever, and yet I still had to leave.

I’m really struggling with how to keep doing this. All my friends and family, all the visits and the company and support…and all I want to be is with you. I’ll be back to visit next week, and I don’t care how unhealthy that might be. I’m never going to be ready to let go of you, so I’m going to hold on for as long as I can. Cos once that curtain closes, that will be it. And I don’t want it to be. I can’t hold hands with ashes. I’d almost rather this go on for much longer. If I could just check in from time to time? I’m really not ready for that final step. And fuck the word closure.

In the meantime if you’re listening, what the fuck have you done with your bicycle chain bracelet? I can’t find it anymore, and the longer I can’t find it, the more important it seems.

Just so as you know – I love you. I have never loved anyone the way I love you, and I never will.

How does something mental hurt so much?

Very briefly, at the end of the day, when I’m tired enough I think I’ll sleep, and I’m as “up” as I get, just because I know I’ve made it through another day, and it hasn’t yet started all over again…

…and I’m sifting through Deezer, looking for some tracks I’ve thought of, that I’d like to have played at his funeral, having spent a couple of hours talking to his mum about plans and arrangements. How the fuck is this even a thing?

I know you’re not here, and you’re not listening, and you never will be. But I love you so fucking much, and I miss you so fucking much, and I didn’t know it was possible to hurt this much, and to be so lost, and so broken, and so numb, and so fragile, and so…so many things, so much, so much all at the same time. The only thing I want in the whole wide world is for you to be back here with me, and that’s never going to happen. There are so many questions, and answers yet to come, and worlds full of what if, and none of them make a blind bit of difference really, because the end result is the same. You’ve gone. You’re never coming back. There’s this fucking massive hole where you were, and it’s inside me and it’s around me and it’s everywhere, and everything is just shit.

And every day I wake up it hits me all over again, and right now I’m tired, and I need to sleep, but I don’t want to, because I know that tomorrow isn’t going to be any better.

My beautiful boy is gone, and everything is broken, and will never be the same again.