My love.

I am sitting by my back door in the kitchen with the sunlight streaming through and the gentle swish of the washing machine rhythmically filling the silence.It has been a while since I wrote and the reason is that I have been back to work this week. A week of work, study and child taxiing that has filled my life to the brim.

I should really be cleaning my bathroom or hoovering my hallway, but the lure of my laptop was too much and I find myself sitting here guiltily tapping away, reading blogs, checking Twitter and visiting forums for the Open University.

My cheeks are salty with the stains of tears as I write. Not, I hasten to add, because of anything bad in my life, but because of something I just watched.The lovely Mr London Street posted a link, on Twitter ,to a video of a love story.He did warn that it would be moving, but I watched it anyway and found myself sobbing.

I suppose stories of love, of long relationships and loves lost touch a chord with all of us. Sometimes, when I wake up in my bed alone because my Man has gone to work at some ungodly hour, I wonder about the day when one of us will wake up alone every day. I know... its really rather morbid. I don't allow myself to ponder this thought often, but sometimes it does pop into my head.

There will come a day when either my Man or I will no longer be here.The bed will be empty, the coffee cup will stay on the mug tree.My plan is for both of us to pop our clogs together, in bed, when we are about 103, after a full and healthy life...but there is a chance that this might not go to plan...

Sometimes I hold my Man tight, as if I will never let him go. When he is at work or away, I miss him.When I hear the door open and he is home again, my heart misses a beat.But there will come a day when his key, or mine, hangs on the hook gathering dust. A time when I cannot touch his foot with mine in the middle of the night. A time when the warm touch of his skin, the scent of his body, the sparkle of his eyes... are only there in my memory.

Listening to Annie and Danny's tape above they talked of their love helping them through bad times. I hope our love helps us.If my plan to kick the bucket... ok, I will say it... if my plan that we die together doesn't happen, then I reckon that the strength of our love, the friendship we have now will see us through.

I know this is morbid. I know we don't want to talk or think about this kind of thing... but it will happen. As sure as eggs is eggs... one of us will have to cope.I cannot imagine him not being here.He is everything to me - my friend, my lover... the person that doesn't let me take myself too seriously. He is here now, making me a cup of tea and oblivious to what I am writing. He is the kindest man I have ever known.... good and loyal and true.... funny and sexy and honest.I don't know how I would cope without him, but not to cope would be an insult to him.I would try to be strong and positive - even if it was only to the world before me, even if inside I was bleeding for him and his touch, his voice.

My Dad has been gone for nearly 10 years now, but I can still see him in my head. I still find it hard to believe that I will never see him again.In my dreams he is always alive and I always chide myself for thinking him dead. 'You fool!' I think... he was alive all along. Maybe one day I will think like that about my Man.

Oh my God. I can't believe I am writing this.That is enough.I don't want to think about this. I don't want it to happen. Ever.I cannot imagine it. I don't want to imagine it.Enough.