annanotbob2's Diaryland Diary

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Still

The longer this goes on, the scareder I get. I'm scared to go to sleep now, in case she's gone in the morning. All the time I'm not here I'm scared she'll be gone when I get back. The thought of after is more than I can bear.

My mind is full of her, of all the things I had planned, mostly small things, like buying fabric and tape to make a load of bandannas to stop her neck being wet from the fluid she loses from the side of her mouth. We chose them together, two weeks ago, at the fabric stall in the Wednesday market in the town. She had an appointment for physio at the MS centre - how can it be that she will never go to the MS centre?

My garden plans were all centred around an area of scented plants - nicotiana sylvestris, sweet rocket, sweet peas, roses, lavender - and paving so she could be wheeled to it. I hadn't even worked out how we would make shade - I still want to make shade for her to sit under when the sun gets too hot. How can it be that she will never come to my house again, never have the cat sat on her lap again, never have the headrest on the wheelchair sorted out, never sit round a fire again?

I will never come to this fucking town again if I can help it. I will move back to the city - I won't as I don't have any money - but I will too.

I am just about managing the present tense - my daughter is dying. It is a full week since we have had to accept this as happening now, not at some time in the future - too soon but not-now - but right now, actively. I cannot imagine the past tense of this verb. I can't even think it and I certainly won't write it, despite knowing it is approaching.

I keep stopping typing to make sure I can still hear her breathe. I can. Still regular.

12:19 a.m. - 24.05.17

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