In words, like weeds, I'll wrap me o'er, Like coarsest clothes against the cold: But that large grief which these enfold Is given in outline and no more." Tennyson
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.
Monday, 19 November 2012
Foreigner
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.
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