One Month. One Week. Bowie.

Today is a sad day.  One month ago today I held my husband's hand as he took his last breath.  I told my children that their daddy had passed away, I tried to help my learning disabled child understand that daddy was not coming back.

A week ago we held his funeral.  We struggled through my daughter's birthday, Christmas and New Year before we could say our final goodbyes.  We had an evening of celebration on Saturday 2nd January filled with laughter and stories, eulogies of hope and pride.  His funeral on Monday 4th January was when it hit me.  He was not coming back.


I walked behind his coffin as the hearse drove up the drive to the crematorium, following a lone piper, playing scottish laments.  Andy's coffin, carried by his friends was taken into the chapel to the sounds of The Clash - London Calling.  Our children spoke movingly and honestly about their dad, how they would miss the little things, how they would always remember him, how much they loved him.  I spoke briefly and told those there that I took so much comfort from the fact that Andy's spirit lived on in his children and then his cousin read out his own words, written for this blog about living for one year with cancer.  Living without regret or fear, seizing the moment and the joy of being able to spend time with friends and family.  The curtains closed around his coffin to the sounds of What I did For Love from A Chorus Line, it was always Andy's choice for his funeral.

A last poem, read by our son's Godfather and Andy's closest friend and then we sat and listened to the final piece of music.  Starman by David Bowie.  The funeral was about the children and how he was living on through them, through their hopes, dreams and ambitions and as we sat and listened to the music it was so poignant, it was like Andy was giving us a message;

There's a starman waiting in the sky
He'd like to come and meet us
But he thinks he'd blow our minds
There's a starman waiting in the sky
He's told us not to blow it
Cause he knows it's all worthwhile
He told me:
Let the children lose it
Let the children us it
Let all the children boogie

I knew today would be tough.

Then I picked up my phone.

Bowie was dead.

Music was always part of our relationship, Bowie's music especially so.  We saw him play live, we relished every moment of the exhibition at the V&A, Andy's treat for my birthday.  We framed our Bowie album covers and posters.  Bowie was where our musical tastes merged.

It's a sad day today.  There's another starman waiting in the sky.


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