About Week 5 I think it was, I called Cagney, our FLO. A FLO, Family Liaison Officer comes into your life in circumstances like this.
“Thing is, I know this is going to sound stupid, but…” I said.
“It won’t. Go on.” said Cagney.
“I’ve just realised this is permanent, they’ve gone forever and I’ll never see them again.”
“It’s good that you recognise that.” said Cagney. “It’ll come and go. You’ll have good days and bad days. Maybe today is a good day?”
The permanent, changeless, endlessness of Izzy and Beth not being here, is forever. For the rest of my natural life.
Don’t get me wrong the disbelief still surfaces from time to time. ‘This isn’t true. No. It can’t be true. This is not happening. No. No.’
I sort of angle my head as if I’m accusing someone of something. I can feel my brain straining, craning my neck as if, in a different position, this will help me make sense of things.
I force myself to try to understand, to think, think, think. It’s like my mind is attempting to take a series of steps outside my head, because my head and my skull is confining it’s ability to think, to properly think, to think logically.
And then there’s the physical longing, an aching, like when you’re in love and you’ve not seen them for days or hours and seeing them again makes you realise how much you adore them, how much you want to be with them and never be apart.
At that very moment is the surging plunge of realisation that this is forever, in perpetuity, permanent. Endlessness. Never ever again.
I’m so, so tired of all this metaphysical stuff, the feelings and the sensations born inside me, in my head, in my chest and in my stomach. I’m bored to death of yearning, of seeking what’s not here, the vapour and the essence of them.
I just want them back. The blood, the sweat, the BO and the tears.
Not much to ask is it?