I am home for a short while to get some laundry done, have some food and get JD some clean clothes.
Nothing has changed since this morning so it is all still very good. Nothing has changed. Apart from me having read the letter she left under our bed in case something would go wrong during the operation.
Nothing has changed since this morning. Apart from me having gone from a composed partner to a teary mess, sitting at home with a letter in my hand, crying my eyes out.
In the envelope was a letter and another envelope. I have not opened that yet. And I don’t think I will. I will ask JD to open it for me this afternoon. If she does not want me to open it, she can throw it away. Or keep it safe for when it is needed. She told me I could read the letter so I did. If she had told me I couldn’t I wouldn’t have read it.
Just the thought of her not surviving. “Perhaps you can hear my voice or see me standing next to you when you read this…”. I pictured myself reading the letter after her death or after something really wrong had happened. And I just cried and cried and cried. Like I am when I am typing this now.
I would be absolutely destroyed if something ever happened to her. I am nothing without her.
Can we please never have to do this again. Please. Pretty please.