How are you?

How am I, out of 10? It's nice that a random poster was concerned about my wellbeing. As I walked past it yesterday I thought, well, maybe a 3 or a 4, which is not bad all things considered. There is an element of release of tension in this situation. I hated the notion that we were waiting for Claire to die. Most of the time I tried to focus my mind on the day to day caring to avoid that, but in the final couple of weeks it felt more and more like waiting. After she ceased to take any food or drink we stopped the carers coming, there was so little for them to do. Hours were passed just watching her breathing, timing pauses and counting breaths. Then there was no denying we were waiting.

Trying to process by poetry. It's one way I suppose:

Slow Slow Quick, quick Slow My breath dances with yours following your pauses holding waiting for you to breathe again waiting for you to stop.

We walked around mum and dad's garden before Giles left. She admitted it has been very neglected. The rain has been welcome. Things grow. Life goes on.

Stay safe. Be kind.