My beloved husband, Kent, died in January 2012, 3 years after diagnosis of a brain tumour. Our son was 2 1/2 and our daughter 3 months old. He and I were far too young. I am now hurtling through the black space of life without him.

Sunday, 2 November 2014


I bought them icecreams today
and tried not to count the teaspoons.
I saw that wry look of yours on his face
when he asked her for another lick,
and she said no.
Memories of childhood icecreams at the beach
blurred with the memory of those icecreams at the beach
that you asked for, while I worried like crazy
about how bad it was for you,
as though a giant icecream could tip the already tipping balance
between life and death.
My eyes blurred and I saw your freckles
on his knuckles,
and I saw you sitting down with us,
wiping the pink gently from her face,
and I wondered,
why on earth are you not here? 

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