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That’s how I thought of them – cultured. Long fingers, but masculine. Intelligent. Long, masculine, intelligent, cultured fingers with no wedding band on them.
HAHAHA
Relying on doctors to give me the strength I needed when I was scared and small and trying to manage the pain and fear of Childhood Leukaemia. It still gives me shivers thinking about it now. The nights when Mum had fallen asleep exhausted beside me and I was still awake, my young mind churning with what-ifs you should never have to contemplate at five years old. What if I die? Will it hurt? Will an angel come for me? Tossing and turning and watching Mum sleep. What will Mummy do if I leave her? How sad will she be? How much will she cry then, when I’m in heaven? Who will hug me like she does
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I nodded, and I knew the tears were coming, I couldn’t have stopped them if I’d tried. “I’ll be by his side, I promise.” “Thank you, darling, because I need that too. I can’t say goodbye until I know you’re going to be holding his hand at my funeral.” “I will be, I promise. I swear.” Tears ran down her cheeks as mine did, both of us trying to smile, and with that she reached up behind her and pulled an envelope out from behind her elephant postcard. “On that note, sweetheart, I need you to promise me something else.” “Anything.” She handed the envelope over, and the scribble only made the
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“Honestly, sweetheart, I’m so proud of you. I’m so proud of the man you’ve become.”
Jesus fuck
She was a lifeline in my pain, a beautiful radiance in a stormy world, filled with grey.
I told them how incredible it is to have a mother like her on your side. How she held me tight when I was scared, and promised me it would all be ok. How she told me jokes in the middle of the night when I couldn’t sleep, and how she read me kid’s stories in amazing funny voices.
God i hope vincent feels like this
