So today is Marty's Birthday.
I don't say "would have been" because it it still is. It is a still a day to celebrate his life, his spirit and his quintessential Marty-ness.
A month back in the UK with the people that I love has made me braver. It's funny how we draw so much strength from the people who have our backs, and our fronts, and our hearts.
It has been a month of confronting the past at every turn and drawing strength from that to face the future.
And for every moment when I been almost physically punched in the chest with grief and longing for him to "just come back dammit" there has been a moment of pure joy and and a growing conviction that I will be OK.
That although things will never be the same that I can get through this, that I am getting through it, and that there are still a lot of things left to be grateful for.
It was not the trip I was expecting. I anticipated more tears, and a lot less laughter. More painful moments and less beautiful, hilarious ones.
There were many speed wobbles.
Meeting my one year old niece for the first time and looking at her lovely little face and thinking "M will never get to meet you now and he would have loved you so much"
He would have picked her up and casually carried her around on one arm as though it was the most natural thing in the world. He was always the baby whisperer.
Babies, as a rule, cry when someone hands them to me, they hang on like limpets knowing that they are in the hands of a hopeless amateur. clinging to whatever they can grasp about my person...so many broken necklaces.
M would also have been been down on the floor for hours giving her walking lessons.
Many times we would have people to stay or go and stay with friends and they would call a couple of days later to tell us that the baby had started walking after a few coaching sessions with Uncle Marty.
I'm sorry you missed out on that Saoirse, I'm sorry that you and your brother will miss out on him, I'll do my best to make it up to you both, we all will.
And then there was walking along South Bank in London, looking at the lights on Tower Bridge and thinking "last time I was here you were right next to me" and yet I could still hear him in my head saying "I still am sweetie"
And going to the National Theatre alone because it was always one of our places.
There is a story behind that one. My Dad was a big theatre guy, he took me to RSC when I was seven to see "Much Ado About Nothing"
I don't imagine that I understood much of the plot at that age but I remember him returning me to Mum and proudly saying that I had "laughed in all the right places".
When I went back to the UK on my OE Dad started taking me to the National Theatre and when he died Marty and I agreed to try and see something there whenever were in London.
Our first outing was to see "An Inspector Calls". Not having been to the National before Marty was blissfully unaware that the average length of a play there is approx two and a half to three hours.
So we get to intermission, I was in a seat closer to the aisle than M and employed our usual theatre strategy which was for whoever is in front to head straight to the bar before it becomes a complete scrum.
Once I had secured our drinks I began the "Marty Hunt" this was a game that featured prominently in our marriage due to Martin possessing disappearing skills that would have made David Copperfield envious.
After five minutes of futile searching I resorted to phoning him. "where are you?" "I'm outside waiting for you, I've got your coat from the coat check"
"Why have you got my coat now?"
"Because we are leaving?" This last was delivered in a what I can only describe as an "I love you but sometimes you are not very bright" tone.
I was very confused by this point "are you not enjoying it, I think it's really good"
"What?, yes of course I enjoyed it, it was great"
Ahhhhh
"You do know it isn't finished yet don't you?"
"Of course it is finished, we've been in there an hour and a half, how much more can there be?"
"About another hour or so"
"F*uck"..(long pause)... well I did think the ending was a bit sh!t"
"What, somewhat "inconclusive"?"
"Yeah....I'll just come back in then shall I?"
We laughed about that for years. And sitting in the theatre, without him beside me, it still made me smile...through the tears.
It rather sums up our story really, It was a wonderful play but the ending was a bit sh!t and somewhat inconclusive.
So Happy Birthday my love. We will have a whiskey or two for you tonight, I will have people that we both love around me and we will swap stories and remember you and all of the ways that you made us laugh.
I'm sure that there will be some tears but so long as we can smile through them I know that you will be happy.
