I am sitting in a yellow chair, staring our of the window and I am not totally clear how I feel, other than a little stunned, a little broken and surprisingly wounded by my last hours recount. I have just closed the door to a lovely English journalist who will be covering Andy’s story and raising awareness about the documentary in a large English newspaper this weekend.
Usually I am asked about our life, how Andy became an actor, Spartacus etc, but this time I was caught off guard as I was asked very specific questions about his treatment. We talked about the Chemo and its effects, we talked about where and when things looked like they were on the up and then of course we talked of the chest crushing moments, when you realize that it is no longer about getting better, but a conversation about staying alive.
Reliving so many moments, that your mind has strategically stored away, like the unimaginable moment, that you watch your husband say goodbye to his babies for the last time, is like walking along a high street and a complete stranger coming up to you and punching you very hard in the face and after having intuitively fought them off, you are left shaking, pumped full of adrenaline and in total disbelief at what just took place.
Being out of our little community and the safe little structure that has allowed all of us, the kids and I, to move on, is way more challenging than I imagined. I want to wear a T – shirt that says be gentle with me cause I am bit broken and be circled by an entourage of dear friends that protect us from anyone and everyone that doesn’t know or care about where we are at.
But just as it is, when you have learned to walk again after a horrific car accident, there comes a point when you have to leave the safety and support of the hospital and with all the knowledge that you may very well fall, take on your first time crossing a road, knowing that the lights might change at any time as that you may need to ask for help as you mount the curb.
The layers of grief are not clean cut and learning to really be back out in the real world means that, step by wobbly step, you have to actually get back out there and slowly but surely, what in one moment will feel like you are only just coping, will suddenly become your amazing ability to thrive.