What am I doing going to my mum’s? I don’t want to be there. I should be home with you, John. It should be just another Saturday where we’re sitting in the front room talking, or you come to bed for a cuddle and I lie there thinking how happy I am to be lying in the crook of your arm, that familiar place, listening to your lovely deep voice. Talking about where we’re going to live, how we’re going to drive around the country and find a new place.
God you were so big in my life John and I never got a chance to tell you how important you were to me – well I did in hospital, many times, but I don’t know if you heard me. Did you ever hear the music I played you and think, ‘Oh, that must be Anna playing me classical music’?
I’m so shocked at how different the world is without you. I can’t bear to think of your poor frail body still in the hospital somewhere. Oh John, I hope you didn’t know what had happened or you would have been so scared and so sad.
We talked so much about everything – now I’m just half a conversation. We invested so much in each other, we knew each other so well. How to face that I just cannot ever say anything to you again that you will hear and respond to.