Monthly Archives: January 2013

Ring a Ring o’ Roses


Today (27 Jan 2013) marks 2 years since Steve’s passing.

I still feel Steve is physically here. Whilst logging on to draft this entry  our wedding song (Is This Love?) came straight on the radio as if to remind me I am  not alone. My last entry in here was for our Wedding Anniversary and featured a photo slideshow to the track. Spooky or what?

In the last two years I have run in ever decreasing  circles in order to remain in the same spot.

I have seen three flats but none were suitable to move into although I dare say it was where I was looking for excuses not to move and leave the place I feel Steve’s spirit still roams within.

I am very grateful that I was able to keep Steve’s promise to die at home. I would never change that decision but I am not sure I was prepared for all physical and emotional pull that walls and inanimate objects can bring. They are comforting, not scary. When something seems to get knocked in another room (no one in there); or Ruby starts meowing when there is nothing around to activate her,  I smile and shout “you okay in there sweetheart?” then go to check later. If I ever get burgled I’ll probably just sit with my back to PC tapping away and assuming it’s Steve brought some friends along. Note to self… Must rent Truly, Madly, Deeply again 🙂

Back to my record of the last 2 years:

I have started to do the health checks that took a back burner before and find I am healthy in some respects but not in other. I am now on Strontium Renelate to help build my bones. My osteoporosis was spotted by a routine healthcare visit to a place I worked at in Finance a long while back. It came to amuse me that I had more access to healthcare when I was sat at a desk than when I was risking life and limb to look after someone else’s life and limb. Still… it was a stressful job pushing paper all day in a high glass building in Docklands with wonderful views; then taking a lift  down to the bar on the ground floor and having your colleagues invite you over to their table for a quick glass of bubbly before you left the office 😦

I have done various Huntington’s disease and carer projects but my reluctance to go out/stay overnight anywhere and leave Steve’s ashes alone here has hampered my efforts to do move. I still leave the light on and radio when popping out to the shops. Not so much Crimestopper, more like Homecozier.

I am still looking for work. I even  worked  part-time at a great place but left within 3 months (reasons being 6 of one and half a dozen of the other).

Does this bother me? Should I be going out more and ‘move on’ as they like to call it? Nope! I am quite content, if that is the right phrase, to sit here spending my time looking at photos  and chatting away to Steve in between internet socialising for the HD cause (more on my latest project in my next entry)

To quote from my poem done in July 2012 for the 18 month anniversary:

Yeah I get through each day now as best as I’m able,

I talk to your casket that sits on your table,

I know that I look now as if I’m unstable,

Who cares if unstable is true,

It’s the way that I cope without you…


I’ve done another  little poem to mark this date  and included a photo.

The photo cheers me up when I am down. There are many which do that of course. Steve has a wonderful smile after all…

It was taken in March 2005 on a short trip we booked to Llandudno. Steve was still doing his best to be as independent as possible and using safety razors. He has cut his lip again but still has that wonderful smile! It will have been sore for him, bless him.

He is aware we are due to go to the London Neuro Clinic a few days after we return home and he is aware they are likely to confirm he has HD. The GP said as much when he sent the blood test in.

I have just given up my job in Met Police Purchasing losing all my income. I was the main breadwinner and Steve had been on a few pounds a week jobseekers’ benefit. Steve  was attending an IT Training Course to learn the basics as part of the jobseeker’s agreement but it was hard for him. We would pay for cabs to get him there and back at times where he was not one to let people down and he was still a fighter, hoping it might not be HD after all… We are putting our home up for sale with nowhere sorted to live yet. We have some savings to live on pending the sale of the home and the HD result meaning we will start applying for benefits.

All of the above and yet Steve can still see the j15 Llandudno 1oy in the moment and inspires me to capture that joy forever.

The poem underneath is bleak.  No need to send out the suicide watch team. I’d only b#gger it up anyway. It’s true though that I find the thought of joining Steve under a rose bush one day comforting (written in my Will that we are both going side by side with a rose bush planted over us – Steve loved flowers). Another year over means another year sooner so I shouldn’t feel too bad to see time moving forward. 🙂


When first you died the shock set in,

Although I always knew,

That one day I’d be sitting here,

In grief where I’d lost you.


Sat here now with two years passed,

I realised I’ve changed;

The sobs are more internal now,

No longer screams deranged.


The pain of grief brings some relief,

I couldn’t bear to find,

That one day I could carry on,

And you not come to mind.


I walk in pain on broken glass,

From dreams we shared but shattered.

The sharpness pierces through my skin,

Reminding me what mattered.


I do feel guilt I am still here,

But will I be tomorrow?

The only thing that comforts me,

Is one day I will follow.