Sadness and grief

I am a doctor now. And on Boxing day R, the love of my life died. I haven’t been writing for a variety of reasons but the loss of R was enough to stop me in my tracks. In 15 minutes my world collapsed. My present and my future.

The family gathered and I screamed at the horrible shit that had just been thrown into my path.

We had plans. We were going to finish the house and then go out in the T25 every weekend when the weather got nice. We were going to start local and then move further and further out. Getting to Scotland if we fancied. R was finishing his PhD and then we were going to become retired T25 campers. I was going to paint the van with flowers and turn out tiny house. Once my autism would feel comfy with.

Then on Boxing day I held Roland as he died. We had 8 wonderful years and I don’t think I will ever recover.

So, now I have no real future. The kids are getting me through it but the reality is that I am falling from one disaster to another. But I am drawing and this means I am writing again. I’m not wallowing in self-pity but at the same time I don’t know how to begin at building my future again. I’m not the Katie I was before Roland, nor the Kate I was with him, so maybe I can be Kat in the future. Maybe.

I had a dream last night, my dad and Roland built me a massive house; stained glass windows and domed celings, huge windows and massive spaces. Then they showed me a smaller house. This one was best, they said. It had lower ceilings and was comfy but not the space the other one had. I was sad and wanted the first. Roland took me back, but there was a leak, and as I stood under the ceiling it fell on me. Help, I called and Roland took my hand. The smaller house is the best, he said.

And I woke.

I figure that the houses aren’t houses. They are the difffernt lives I could lead. I could try to keep up the one me and Roland had, the one my dad helped build, but I would not be able to do it alone. I would crumble under the stress. Instead I should opt for the smaller life. It was just as good as the bigger but better for me to manage.

I guess that follows. Roland and I had a social life, something that I can’t do well with the autism. He would act as a shield when we were out. Making sure I was okay at all times. That buffer has gone. So I can do social situations but not as many and not for as long.

My problems are many but I know I can solve them. As my mum says, I don’t really have a choice. Not if I want to keep to our pact, and we did have a pact.

No matter who dies that the one left behind would live rather than just survive,

I have to honour that.

I’ll keep writing and creating because it is what is keeping me sane, but I am not sure how often I’ll post. Could be very, might not be. All my plans are in the air.