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spent over forty years by Dennis’ side. We knew she wouldn’t rest unless pushed, so I had been the one to convince her. She was a stubborn woman, but even she knew how tired she was.
    “Okay,” she whispered as she lay her head on the pillow and pulled her legs up to her in a sort of foetal position.
    I went back downstairs and opened another bottle of wine. I walked round and topped up people’s glasses before sitting down outside on the patio and pouring myself another large glass. I looked at the boys playing in the garden and put my feet up on the garden chair. I lay back and shielded my eyes from the sun that was smiling down upon us.
    The rest of the day was spent reminiscing and telling stories about Dennis. We laughed, we cried, and we did what families do best, we supported each other.
    Later that night, we got a taxi home. Both Drake and I had consumed too much alcohol to drive and would pick the car up in the morning. Drake had drank considerably more than I had, more than even he normally would, but who could blame him when he was lost in grief?
    Putting Ayden to bed, I tucked him in and gently stroked his head, his silky blond hair running through my fingers. I turned on his night light and crept quietly from his room.
    By the time I got to bed, Drake was gently snoring, curled up on his side. I brushed my teeth and got in bed beside him. Looking at his profile, my mouth curled up into a bittersweet smile. It had been a difficult day and this handsome man beside me had pretended to be so strong for everyone else. Gazing upon him in sleep, he looked relaxed and calm, something I knew he was not.
     
    ***
     
    The next morning, I woke before my boys and went downstairs to make breakfast.
    Frying bacon in the pan, the radio on quietly in the background, I felt sadness wash over me. Sundays were normally family days. The tradition was that while I had a lie-in, Drake and Ayden would go to the shops for a newspaper and a magazine, then when I woke, we would go to Lynne and Dennis’ for a Sunday roast. Sundays would never be the same now and it made me wonder how we would go on. We couldn’t stay away from the rest of the family, but I knew Drake would feel some unease now that his Dad wasn’t around.
    Little footsteps on the stairs alerted me to Ayden’s presence.
    “Hey, Mommy,” he said as he sat at the kitchen island ready for breakfast.
    “Hey, sweetheart, sleep well?” I asked as I poured him a glass of orange juice.
    “I had a dream that Grandad was still here,” he replied in a quiet voice. “We were playing catch in the back garden at his house.”
    “That’s nice, baby. Do you want to go and wake Daddy for breakfast?” I didn’t know what to say to Ayden about his dream, maybe nothing needed saying. I didn’t want him to stop talking about Dennis just because he was no longer around. I wanted him to remember how much his Grandad loved him.
    “Sure,” he said, scrambling down from the stool to go and wake Drake.
    A few minutes later, both of my boys were in the kitchen sat at the island, waiting for me to serve them a full cooked breakfast. I smiled tenderly at Drake, who gave me a small smile of his own. After dishing up, I sat with them at the island and we tucked into our food. The silence in the room was deafening. I had turned the radio off while Ayden was waking Drake, but I was suddenly wishing I hadn’t.
    I watched Drake toy with his fork, not really eating much. I caught his gaze and he started to eat, probably more for show than out of hunger. When they had cleared their plates, I placed them in the dishwasher and told Ayden to go and get dressed.
    Looking at my broken husband, seeing that he was trying to keep it all in, I moved towards him and enveloped him in my arms. I snuggled in to him and he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me to sit on his lap. He buried his head in the crook of my neck and it was then that I felt soft tears soak my pyjama top. Tears fell down my