I have told my sad tale so many times over the last year, particularly over the last week, that I became disconnected from it. Telling it was easy because it felt like it was a story. I am nearly 49 hours and 14 minutes from the second that Colin was pronounced dead a year ago and I have realised once again that this is not some film script or novel plot, this is my life. As I approach that minute when my world turned a familiar feeling has come back to haunt me. Nausea. I felt sick for months after Col died. I think I managed to eat one square of chocolate and a pot of yoghurt a day for the first two weeks after. Today that feeling of completely and utter horror that I am never going to see my love again and it’s a nearly a year since we spoke, shared the same air and physically touched each other has returned and I’ve been weeping.
A journalist noted this week that I was stoic and tearless. I am not. I had just forgotten how to feel and I’ve just remembered and now I want to forget to again because I simply feel like I did on February 25th last year. Sick and horrified and absolutely bereft. Oh Col……I love you.