I never liked the alarm, but today was worse than it had
ever been before. I poked my head out of the duvet and the chill hit me. How
was I going to peel back the duvet? A rhythmic snore signalled the alarm had
woken only me. It wasn’t going to be a good day for him, but for me it was
going to be unbearable. I was on the edge, not knowing where I would find the
strength to haul me through. The logical voice inside my head told me it was
time to move. My protective voice whispered “cling to the duvet”, knowing its
familiar reassurance was insulating me from what lay beyond.
The alarm set off again to upset me, its shrillness piercing
my thoughts and making my head hurt. I reluctantly raised my head away from the
soft warmth of the pillow and could feel the chill again wrapping itself around
me. I knew warmth would elude me for a long time to come, maybe there would
always be a chill somewhere deep within me now. The bleak, black dress stared
at me from its hanger and I remembered that the high stilettos ready placed
underneath it would make my feet throb eventually. By the end of the day, my
head, my feet, my heart would pulsate with pain.
I knew that I must relinquish the safety of my bed now, but
still I clung tighter. He was still snoring next to me as my cascade of tears
began. My body shook the bed as the realisation hit. I must do this and I must
do this now; get out of the bed, let go of the duvet, shower and dress. The
hearse would be here at 10 and everyone would be relying on me to organise
them. As I finally felt the cold bathroom tiles on my soles, the chill spread
through my veins. There was no going back, this day had begun, the day I would
bury my brother.
No comments:
Post a Comment