Terminal

SMS. 15.42. 3.30pm. Tom stable or slightly better, still under sedation love Rick.

SMS. 15.45. That’s excellent. I would love to be able to visit him…when I’m allowed – Christian

SMS. 15.48. Hi bitch. How the fuck r u? – Christian

SMS. 15.48. On holidays from today. How are you? Let’s catch up – He-who-shall-never-be-mentioned.

Perry called and said that he and I can go and see Tom. Perry used the 'terminal' word for the first time. He didn’t want to, I could hear it in his tone, but he did.

I cried in the car all the way over to my mother’s. It suddenly hit me that I might have to live the rest of my life without Tom. It’s inconceivable.

I didn’t try to hide my tear streaked face from anyone. I sat proudly at the lights with the sun on my skin and my red eyes and cried. If the world wanted to watch that was just fine with me. Let them watch. I didn’t care, for what I was crying about was more important than anyone of them.

I didn’t smoke all day, my lungs are truly telling me it is time for me to stop smoking. I am listening. I had a few joints, kind of replacement therapy.