It's been a bone-crushingly hard day. I get anxious, sometimes, that people are looking for signs of improvement. There are none, it is as hard as ever, and it goes without saying that I miss him not one drop less than I ever did. Perhaps even more.
I hung photos of Kent on the little girl's wall today, above her cot. So that she knows what her father looked like.
Monday, 19 November 2012
I realised recently that I am a foreigner in my own country. I entered the land of marriage a long time ago, and I intended to be there for, you know, life. Until I was really old, that's supposed to mean. And now here I am, booted out to the border. There's not really anywhere else to go. My own country is all I know, and I don't want to be anywhere else. I'm worried I'm going to forget the language and those around me will soon stop recognising me as one of their own.
Posted by Angela at 23:04