Momentary reflection, before I get on with a very busy day.
Two years ago was Jason’s funeral. 19 gruelling days spent in limbo, before his body could finally be freed of the changes it was going through. No person should see their loved one rot, yet that decomposition before my very eyes was what made his funeral such a relief. It was the right time.
The only time I cried that day was at the funeral home. I cried for him. I cried out of relief that it was over. I cried because we would never physically be together again. I finally accepted that no matter how much I watched his chest, it was never going to rise again. He was still, and ready for the journey to end.
Looking back through my memories today, is bittersweet. So much love and support from friends, but also, so much promise from people that have been absent since the day of the funeral. So called ‘friends’ and family of Jason that promised they would be there for me, who haven’t even congratulated the birth of Barnaby, 18 months ago. This is the weirdest thing I have learned about death, that people cast you aside once the drama is over, and it is all too common.
I won’t dwell on those people any more, instead I will thank the people that have been there for me every step of the way. From making me food, to coming round in an evening, to just understanding that even though it has been two years, I still hurt. I will never be ‘over’ it.
Today I will celebrate a day of relief. A day of celebration that a fabulous man achieved so much in his 24 years, that most 75 year olds haven’t managed.
I will also be getting a massage. Winner!