Of all the things I have done this past month, the jogging, the running, the jumping up and down like an idiot in front of the telly (and it's not even the Six Nations) the hardest thing of all has been the walking...
The running and exercise leave me sweaty and out of breath but the walks...the walks grab my heart with both hands and squeeze so hard I think it's going to burst. The pain is almost unbearable and I'm looking forward to the rain coming as the tears don't show when you're soaking wet. When I walk my hands are empty and there is a space on the pavement in front of me where Rhiannon used to be. I've even twigged to the fact that Charlie isn't trying to pull ahead of me, he's walking to heel where the front wheel of Rhiannon's chair should be, he misses her too.
Today she's been gone from our lives for 8 months and like, trying to fill a colander with water, no matter how much we try to fit into our life it drains away leaving an empty shell. Family and friends plug the gap and give us moments of love, pride, even happiness but the inevitable return home to a new routine, a more casual pace reaffirms the hole that Rhiannon's absence leaves in our hearts.
Some days are worse than others and you lie in bed struggling to find a reason to wake up tomorrow, looking for that one crack of light that gives a reason to go on.
I won't give up, I made a promise but I miss her so much...
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