You see at first there was thing called...a diagnosis.
And Cancer really doesn't put you in the mood.
That was followed by depression,
then more Cancer treatment,
then an IVF pregnancy which you don't want to risk, but did on the odd occasion,
then there was radiotherapy
then there was a cesarean birth
and a newborn, a silent reflux baby,
then there was the affects of chemotherapy, radiotherapy and cancer where, well let just say, things no longer worked. And not for the lack of trying.
And then, and then there was this huge mutherfucker thing called death.
Where the one and only person you have sex with has gone. Forever.
End of story.
And you know what? I didn't really miss it. I don't miss it. What I miss more than anything is Max. My beautiful Max. I miss him cuddling me, we may not have had sex often towards the end but we always cuddled and hugged and kissed and touched. Touch was so important to us. One of the many reasons I loved him so much. I loved that Max would just come and put his arms around me just out the blue for eg. I would be hanging out in my sisters kitchen chatting to her when he would walk in, put his arms around me and give me a kiss on the cheek. I loved that. That is what I miss, his spontaneous cuddles, his spontaneous kisses, his spontaneous I love you's. He was the best kisser, oh my gosh his kisses were just amazing. He was a true Frenchman you know, it is true everything they say. Sigh.
|This is one of my favourite paintings. Gustav Klimt- The Kiss|
My Boo, my beautiful Boo he is a touchy feely boy too. It makes me so happy. He fondles with my hands and rubs my arm gently up and down. He hugs and cuddles. If he is lying in bed with me has to be able to touch me, feel that I am still there.
Tomorrow will be 11 months since Max passed away. I just can't believe it has been that long already. I would love nothing more than for him to come up behind me right now put his arms around me and kiss the top of my head. I miss him. Lots.
For twas not into my ear you whispered
But into my heart.
Twas not my lips you kissed
But my soul.