Today I put my bra on inside out, yesterday I left the keys in the front door overnight and a couple of days earlier I was walking down the street unaware that I was crying. The English have a word for it, muddled. Nothing seems to be in the right place – least of all me.
I struggle daily knowing I will never see Laura again in this life. Never hold her in my arms again, share my life with her, share my joy and my pain, or see that wonderful smile. I miss the sweet energy that thrummed between us, even in the darkest hours of Laura’s illness.
People ask kindly how I am and I am not really sure. Some days my heart squeezes so tightly it seems to be wringing out every drop of my being, the pain of losing Laura is so intense. A couple of days after the memorial I crashed and was in bed for several weeks (a combination of physical and emotional exhaustion). Now I feel raw and fragile like a tiny chick; ungainly and not yet familiar with my new surrounds. The jigsaw of my life seems to be missing so many pieces. I know that eventually it will take on a new pattern and wholeness, but just not yet.