This weekend has been the toughest by far for two reasons, firstly we sorted through Claire’s clothes on Saturday and yesterday I sorted through the loft and found a load of diaries.
Sorting through the clothes wasn’t actually as bad as I thought it would be whilst we were doing it, but it all hit me afterwards when everything was quiet and I was sat in my room with an empty wardrobe. That wardrobe feels like a metaphor for my life at the moment. There was a compartment in my life that was filled so completely, wholey and perfectly by Claire and just as that wardrobe is now empty, bare and actually completely pointless unless it is filled so it is with that compartment in my life – bare, empty and pointless.
We also found some diaries that Claire wrote for the kids. I was amazed to discover that she wrote a pregnancy diary for all four children charting how she felt every single day of the pregnancy. She then also kept a new baby diary, again charting how she felt every single day for the first few months of each of our children’s lives.
I didn’t know she did that.
I just want to hug her and thank her. She has left us a memory of how she felt, a memory that would otherwise have died on the 17th April when she did.
I miss her too much and can’t write any more today.