It’s walking up the same hospital corridor to visit someone else six months later and feeling like a great boulder is rolling towards you and you can’t stop it and it rolls on and over you until you stop and put a hand on the wall until the sound of it is gone.
It’s turning to lift a smile when you see the door pushed open and then realising it was just the cat coming in.
It’s Cliff Richard coming on the car radio singing Miss You Nights, and having to pull over to cry in a layby.
It’s seeing the headstone and reading the name and your eyes getting wider and your mind stumbling No, wait, that can’t be right!
It’s meeting someone who knows only you and doesn’t know that, actually, you were one of a pair, but that’s not their fault because they know only you and your pair is past tense and the present tense is all they know of you and your hand is on the wall again, holding you up.
It’s folding up a dressing gown and then putting it back on the hook again because, still, it’s just too hard.
It’s seeing a visitor looking at the photograph on the mantelpiece and they smile and say Oh yes, that’s a lovely photograph and do you think it’s going to rain later? and you rage inside How dare you? How dare you? But you smile back and say Would you like more coffee?
It’s knowing that there are no words that could ever have been invented to tell you what this would be like and that sometimes you just have to put your hand on the wall and hold on for a while.