90 days….

Life does not get better; it gets worse with each passing day.
Even though I am desperately trying to fill it with stuff to look forward to.
Even though I am trying to be happy in the small moments.
Life is fucked.

I yell at the kids because I’m sad.
I try to break life up by doing fun stuff but in the end,  I am still sad and angry and I yell and yell.  I don’t mean anything I say which makes it worse.


Today started out OK – soccer presentation day this morning.
Cousin S and A came along and so did Mum.  Both K and H scored goals in their respective games and Cousin S noticed that they had both improved markedly since the last time he saw them play.
I met up with an old friend from uni who’s sons have been playing in K’s competition group the whole time but we only recognised each other on the final morning.  Typical.  She was sad to hear that you had died, and I know she meant it.

K&H are OK really.  They had a ball with Cousin S although H did show signs of his anger returning which is not good.  he has been really calm for the past month with few, if any angry outbursts.


I wish I knew a psychic who could definitively say “Yes, G is with you and he says< this very specific thing that only you would say>”.  Then I might be more willing to believe that I’m not just interpreting things the way I want to interpret them.

I keep going back to the nightmare I had a month or two before you died … the one where I woke you up because I had just very vividly dreamed that you had been killed in a car accident.  I’d never had a dream like that before.  I wonder if it was more than a nightmare….  The feeling of overwhelming grief and loss is the same, just a pity that I can’t experience the utter relief it was to wake up and find you next to me.

…and I want so badly to wake up from this nightmare.

I miss you.

I love you.