Adam,

It has been a while since I last wrote and today felt like a good day to get my fingers tapping away again.

6 months. 6 whole months since your accident. In some breaths it feels like yesterday; others it feels like a whole lifetime ago. Last night I spent the night running our last night together blow by blow – even remembering some of the 1% Club questions. You only put it on because you heard your nerdy girlfriend should go on that programme. But that was you all over – everything for everyone else. I will forever be grateful that we had the most perfect night before your accident. Nothing extravagant, a walk, Tesco pizza under a blanket and each other, talking about the future, making plans and laughing – in amongst the stress of work, kids and life it was exactly what we both needed to escape with each other for a bit of relief.

So much has changed since you have been gone. I know that you know all this because I feel you around me so intensely that I know you haven’t really left. I wish I could sit down with you with a coffee and see your reaction to everything that has changed though – I like to think you’d think I was doing alright. I have started running again and signing up for a couple of races, a new job and booking a summer holiday. I can barely see past the next few days most of the time, so I have Amy to thank for that bit of advanced planning!

Christmas was a toughie. Christmas Day wasn’t as bad as anticipated because the boys kept me so busy I barely had time to blink – no hot coffee was consumed on the 25^th! But you would be glad to hear that we played a lot of games – even got my Dad involved in hungry hippos! Got the boys a ridiculous massive trouser game where you throw balls into them – unsurprisingly the kitchen turned into a warzone with casualties of fallen things of the sides everywhere! But the boys laughed so much, even through I was aching for you in my bones, there were glimpses of happiness. Even writing that makes me feel sick. People tell me that it would be what you wanted and I have to live my life, but if you had a choice, you would be here with us living life with me, so I am still learning to let joy live alongside the grief without the overwhelming guilt that follows.

Something niggled to take a look through Rory’s camera that we got him for Christmas last year. I am glad I did because there were some wonderfully unflattering photos of us both in our matching PJ’s (turns out we accidently matched more frequently than we realised – hats, shoes, jumpers – how twee we were!). There are some videos on there too. A few of them you can see Oscar’s forehead before he puts it down and the screen goes blank – but I can hear you on the poppit game. I got to hear your voice again and it was so wonderfully amazing – I have heard you tell me you have reached level 25 an unhealthy number of times. I do tell you how proud I am of you afterwards and know I then gave you a big hug as you said something not very PG into my ear! I miss the sarcasm we had with each other. We bounced so well off each other like a game of ping pong (I would refer to our short lived badminton career but I was so crap there was no back and forth – a lot of bending down to pick the bloody shuttlecock off the floor while your boomy laugh filled the sports hall!).

Christmas Eve, once the boys had gone to bed, crippled me. I absolutely crumpled and the physical pain was unbearable. Thankfully there was a WAY (Widowed and Young) support meeting that I logged into. I snotty cried on everyone with a Baileys. They have been a life saver since you have gone. Their support has helped me put one foot in front of the other even when it felt too much. A group I never wanted to qualify for but so grateful that it is available. Memories of cheese, wine and festive fun from the previous year came flooding over me like a tsunami and they allowed me to feel the feels and feel that bit less alone.

We should have had longer. We should have had so much longer. Life feels so shit and so unfair. I would never trade the pain I feel now for not having what we had but it is exhausting missing you and walking into the future without you.

I knew this weekend was going to be rough without the boys so I have a few things planned including my first WAY event that I have organised – and I think there might be a few of us there. Feels quite fitting that I am seeing people from WAY today when it has been so pivotal in getting to this point. So I will drink coffee and eat cake and treat it like a half birthday (because I know that is what you would want 😉).

All my love, now, forever, this life and the next, Sweet.