Thursday, April 15
I'm dying. I'm ALWAYS dying. Well, sometimes I think I am. Perhaps more frequently at the moment. I also think that my loved ones are all dying too. I stare really hard at them hoping to magically develop x-ray vision to enable me to scan them for tumours. Last week I watched James walking through Central Park in glorious sunshine and just thought 'What will happen to me if you die?'. Seriously though, all I think about at the moment is my own demise and that of my loved ones. I think the suddenness of Mum's illness has left me believing that death is a trickster, hell-bent on following me around and ruining all my fun. It's like I have a cartoon reaper on my shoulder that I have to keep swatting away.