Safe Space

I didn't go in at all on Monday- I knew I wouldn't be able to put on a brave face for the children (they're reception, and only into their first week of half days) so they said it was ok to stay at home. I spent a lot of the day sitting quietly in the conservatory, sipping tea and staring at my phone. And looking up at the sky and wondering how something so terrible could have happened on such a beautiful day. 

I got twitchy by 6pm, where I needed to do something, so my mum and I went for a walk in the woods. When I returned, I phoned a colleague who is our home school link worker to ask how the first day had been, and to my surprise, completely lost it on the phone, sobbing as I spoke. 

She very kindly shared some things I needed to know, namely how her husband and her two girls of 11 and 12 have been coping. She offered to pick me up and bring me in tomorrow, just to have a chat and not to work, which I accepted. I think they're worried about me. 

I spent about 3 hours in this little room, crying and talking, and then she took me home. 

I know writing this retrospectively that grief makes you do funny things. I know I said that all I wanted to do was to see H for the last time, to hold her hands, kiss her on the forehead and tell her I'm so sorry. I guess I still do. She's disappeared from my life without a trace, and I'm struggling with the finality, and a story without an ending.