In words, like weeds, I'll wrap me o'er, Like coarsest clothes against the cold: But that large grief which these enfold Is given in outline and no more." Tennyson
My beloved husband, Kent, died in January 2012, 3 years after diagnosis of a brain tumour. Our son was 2 1/2 and our daughter 3 months old. He and I were far too young. I am now hurtling through the black space of life without him.
Sunday, 2 September 2012
Beating
It's just sort of lying there on the floor, ripped out of its body and cut in to pieces. It's pulsing; amazingly, it seems to still be beating. This is impossible, but fortunate, but cruel. As it lies there in the quiet it seems to be waiting, but there is nothing to wait for.
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