If Monday was 'How can it be true?'
then Tuesday was 'What's going to happen?'
Today I woke two hours before the alarm, suddenly as if somebody had called my name. I realised that I didn't know what day it is, and wasn't sure where I was.
I couldn't go back to sleep.
Monday was numb. As if I'd spent a week crying and waiting and that now it'd happened and he's really gone I couldn't bring myself to grieve.
Tuesday bits of me started coming back, unexpectedly, like emotional pins and needles.
The numbness was still frighteningly numb, like being in a lead lined bubble, but the pins and needles parts were so acute that I wanted to howl and rend my clothes.
My therapist asked me if I had had a chance to really howl, and I said that it hadn't been possible as the pain had hit quite randomly , in the middle of the tudor gallery at the NPG, sitting on the tube looking at the Metro.
I made use of my sunglasses yesterday and cried behind them, but I'm still longing for release.
