Dance, then wherever you may be

Something's woken me. Something stirring in the back of my mind. I reach across the bed, gently, softly, not wanting to wake him but needing to feel his skin. Rest my hand on his chest and count with the rise and fall to lull me back to sleep.

I jolt awake. Insomnia. I'm used to it. But in these early hours it's different. I make tea and toast knowing that sleep has drifted away. I come back to bed and turn on my little radio - my saviour when the night is too big. And on comes Lord of the Dance - one of our wedding songs. And it feels so right. For today, is our wedding anniversary.

I'm sure I was awake at this hour thirty-six years ago, filled with excitement. My parents' house swelled with relatives and I was spending my last night in my little box room. I was twenty-two years old and I was soon to walk down the aisle and begin a new life.

But before that there was a frantic day filled with picking up the wedding cake, the hair salon, laughing with parents, brothers, cousins, and grandparents. The love in that house was huge.

I wore traditional white. He wore top hat and tails. He was my Mr Rochester, and I, his Jane Eyre. That man swept me off my feet and never failed to take my breath away. With his easy smile and open heart he was easy to love.

And he was loved by so many. There must have been over a hundred people at his funeral. I received so many messages from people he'd worked with in the Middle East. They shared their memories; told me how much they missed him.

It's a tricky path to take on your own when you can only articulate how you feel by writing it down. When you often don't understand the world and its language. When you've lost the one who found living so easy, the one who helped you to make sense of it all. The one who you know would never hurt you. The one you think you'll grow old with.

This is my third wedding anniversary without Tim. I admit that it's easier this year. I'm starting to remember life before his brief illness. I'm feeling nostalgic, remembering the good times. I'm looking at our wedding photo that I'd put in the dining room (his makeshift bedroom when he could no longer use the stairs) and letters he wrote at the start of our love, all those years ago.

And then I think of our plans to visit Petra and how he'd loved Wadi Rum. I remember my trek in April. I remember my diet..... I shouldn't have eaten that toast. I can hear him saying: 'Oh, Janey!' Yep. He said that a lot. But I fell down a lot. And he always picked me up.

 

If you've got a bit to spare, I'd be so grateful if you'd sponsor my trek. I've reached 41% of my fundraising target and all the money goes to The Brain Cancer charity. Thank you. 

Jane Lomas is fundraising for The Brain Tumour Charity (justgiving.com)