....today, I brought you home from the hospital after your last, futile surgery. The journey was frightful - I couldn't get the car close to the door of the hospital and there were no dropped pavements, so you had to walk that last bit to the car on unsteady legs and a walking frame. And I was so relieved when we got indoors, and I got you to lie down and have something decent to eat and a nice cup of tea..
In your bed in the dining room, which was where you stayed. Yes, a few times we got you up and dressed and in front of the TV, and I did get you washed and sometimes got your hair washed and all those were so bloody hard to do. And you never got up again, not really.. I sat with you and watched you fade away, and we talked a little, and you read a little, and then all those things were gone too.. I found this image in my phone, sent from yours in November. I had a later one, but I can't find it..
And I think I am scared of losing the memories, and the security, and the pleasure of those things, and all and all..I talk to you a lot, but you have got to be pretty poor at replying, although you have been, lately, in my dreams, which you almost never were when you were alive...Oh, my love, I feel like I'm letting you down. I'm so tired, and lonely, and demotivated, and the house is a mess..I did clean the bathroom, because that was always one of your jobs. Funny, though it doesn't get so grubby just from me washing there
