Still not feeling great. Can’t even be bothered to dissect the last few days and blog about them. Usually after I’ve got through the last week of complete and utter grief and despair I get my shit together, buckle up my big girl pants and crack on with Christmas, but I’m still not feeling it. I’m fine, Dick is being great, the kids are co-operating and everything is on track. But I can’t seem to shake off my despair and get a grip.
And then today I got an email from Harvey. That things are getting better for him and that his wife is improving, it’s all good news and the outlook is promising. She comes home tomorrow. Tomorrow! He will be full time carer, chief cook and bottle washer and won’t have a minute to himself so I should be grateful that I don’t have all that stress to deal with. And I am, very, but I’m going to miss him and the interaction we’ve had. There will be little or no contact, obviously, his wife must come priority and he’ll be so busy he won’t know if he’s coming or going and certainly not free to contact me. The away day is off too. I’m very gutted about that, selfishly. I’m happy she is recovering well enough to be coming home, I don’t envy her one bit. She faces enormous challenges and I hope she makes a speedy full recovery, I wouldn’t wish what she’s been through on anyone. But I will miss him. He makes me smile. We’ve had a chat this afternoon and he says although it will be difficult in the short term, we will still have contact and nothing will change. I doubt that very much. I told him I’d go in tomorrow and delete all his emails, I sent him a photo of my magnificent breasts this evening to look at one last time, I hope he enjoys it!