Going on

I know I want to continue this blog, but going on in here and in life is proving much more difficult than I could ever have imagined.

I want to continue, but how do I talk about you? In which tense do I speak? It's so hard to even think but I owe it to myself to continue the story I began with a blog.

I so want to fill in those last few days but even now, three weeks later I'm finding it so hard to believe you were gone so quickly.

Wednesday, wedding plans, the scan result, such thoughts of frivolity, ideas about having a Christmas that everyone could share.

Thursday, results day. I watched you struggle to walk to the ward, let you lean on my arm as we strolled along slowly, thankfully in no particular rush. It took it out of you. Everything else is a blur. Waiting for ages, strange looks from nurses who were particularly chatty, more waiting, blood tests.

The most memorable part of the day was a gentleman, about your age who walked out smiling, when talking to the nurses he said he was good, still dying but much more slowly, he laughed and was gone. That'll be us soon I said.

The consultant, the moment I saw his face I knew. You were silent, we just sat and held hands while he told us it was over, no more chemo, the cancer was in your brain and aggressive. We left, I was crying. "Don't cry" you said, "we have a wedding to plan, I'm not going anywhere just yet"

We never spoke about it again.

Three weeks on, time is doing funny things, it's either on fast forward or complete stop for hours of the day. Is this a normal way to feel?