Last night I dreamed of my late father. He was well and fit and asking me to take his suits to the dry cleaners. I just looked at him blankly and told him we had buried him.
He died a few months ago. I have no-one I can talk about this to. The last person who actually loved me, possibly the only person who actually loved me, has gone.
He didn't actually love me that much.
Off to do the school run and trying to look like I haven't been crying my eyes out.