Mornings are the hardest for me. I wake up in this living nightmare. When I sleep sometimes its a deep, comfortable peaceful sleep because the days have been so draining. I wake up I go to text you and then I curse myself not only because your not here to text back and comfort me but I curse myself because who sleeps at a time like this? How dare I fall asleep.
Sometimes I dream that you are dying and for one milli second I wake up relieved thinking its not true; then that vomit feeling in the pit of my stomach returns, my head starts pumping really hard and I remember you are not here.
I put on my brave face and go to the kitchen. I make tea. That’s when I break, that’s when I cry, this is when its the hardest. No tea for you. Your not here. No dumb kitchen stories and jokes to swap because you have gone. No dropping Amarie to school and bumping into you on the street for a tight squeeze making you late for work because I talk your ear off so much that time flies. You are gone.
So I stand there in the kitchen mixing my tea with salty tears. Trying hard to stop because there is so much left to do.
I carry on standing there mixing desperately wiping my tears hard because our babies need me to be mummy and pretend their Aunty C is away in some afterlife rave dancing and laughing all day and night happy and peaceful.
No one gets my dumb dry jokes now. You used to laugh even when they weren’t funny. People don’t understand thats love.
Love. What is it without you.
Cerise I’m so lonely now.