He called me Susan. It startled me. It only happened once and even in his locked-up world he appeared to immediately realize his mistake. I could see it deep in his eyes, a tacit understanding, a heartfelt apology that softened my shocked expression into a forgiving smile. How I wish I’d known him when he was well and vibrant, before the strokes and heart attacks had crushed this large man. He now spent his days slumped in a chair, seemingly vacant, but he knew deep down his future daughter-in-law was not called Susan. She was the ex-fiancé from years ago.
Unexpectedly widowed over ten years ago, Sarah Nicholson would love to write a memoir about her experiences but is easily distracted writing shorter pieces. Find Sarah at insearchoflostglitter.blogspot.com/ and on Twitter @reravelling.