The path stretches out ahead of me along the ridge. To each side the land drops away steeply into the swirling mist and fog. I pause … thankful to be out of the fog.
Tuesday, 15 November 2005
Monday, 7 November 2005
Yesterday evening it got a lot worse.
It’s worse when I start letting myself believe the truth of what has happened.
I feel alone and totally helpless - exposed, vulnerable. It gets so painful simply knowing there is nothing at all I can do to change what has happened.
It’s the same feeling I had when I was first told at the hospital.
It’s wanting to do something more than anything else ever in my life, whilst knowing I can’t.
Friday, 4 November 2005
There is a fog all around, obscuring the road. I cannot see the road ahead – I cannot tell what awaits me on my journey; I do not know what I will find on the road; I do not even know my destination or the direction I travel. I only know I must move on … but for the moment it is not possible. The way ahead is too obscure to even tread slowly. I stand still, only seeing the ground at my feet … wondering.
I cannot see behind, but I remember the path I have taken. I remember all of the forks in the road; all of the decisions I’ve made. I wonder if I had made different choices, would I now be striding forward under blue skies and sunshine, instead of standing here still in the swirling mist. I want to go back along the road – I want to take another route, but the fog won’t let me. I am trapped in the present and I feel all alone. I so long to be back with them once more - back in the sunshine.I know my journey will and must continue, however, for the moment, I cannot see how. I can only see the fog and only have my memories to comfort me.
Wednesday, 2 November 2005
I had a dream last night; I’m never good at remembering dreams and can’t remember all of the detail of this one. However, I was in an airport or a station, although the location doesn’t really matter. There was a girl, about 12 or 13 – she was in a very distressed state. Something tragic had evidently happened, but what it was I do not know. A man came to her – he looked a little sinister; long black leather coat, long unkempt hair. But he spoke to her in a gentle voice and one which conveyed total trust and truth. He explained that there had been a mistake; she wasn’t meant to have existed at all. He could change things back to how they should have been – take away the pain she was going through.
I can’t remember her response, but later, in my head, the same choice is given to me and my two lovely boys – again he speaks softly and with total trust and truthfulness. He says he can make things right – he says he can change it so that the boys never existed. They need never have suffered in the accident. No one else would need to have suffered loss and sadness at their sudden departure. Their answer is the same as mine, that although their lives were short, there is nothing that would make them give up the joy and happiness that they had and that they brought to others.
The loss I feel is only surpassed by the love I had for them.