My beloved Juney

Christians often stand accused of being delusional in their belief of a supernatural being that can becalm the mightiest of storms and give hope of eternal life and the reuniting of loved ones.

Today I realise more than ever why I was convicted that there is a God.

I feel crushed.

I can barely come to terms with the fact that my June is no longer coming home to me – not ever.

The woman that was my role model, guardian, lover and friend since my teens cruelly struck down by dementia and now a bed-ridden uncommunicative vision of beauty who doesn’t know me nor what is going on around her, the only sign of life being brief periods of manic laughter that both frighten me and offers hope of painlessness at the same time.

June is no ordinary woman, no ordinary person. June taught me tolerance, love, understanding. She taught me by showing me and the world. She was the same you see. Behind those closed doors June had the same smile, the same disposition, the same huge heart that she showed every single person she ever came into contact with.

June was a one-off, a true one-off. To know her was to love her. A peacemaker who hated confrontation but never found herself having to compromise her values - she simply never courted controversy or caused friction. June was never a threat to anyone. She would laugh at her occasional silliness and mine too. I loved the way she could bring me down to earth and knew I was as vulnerable as she was. I loved to observe her do her thing; spread her love to all and sundry. Somehow I felt I bathed in the reflected glory of it. 

Larger than life, the life and soul of any party, but never crude, always a lady, no bad language from June. Gentle, kind and loving. Oh so loving. No games, told me every day, many times a day how much she loved me but more than that showed me that love. From our early days when I had only a student’s grant to live on June supported me in every way. She was old school. I would make the token egg and chips on a Wednesday and Saturday and June would make the proper meals for the rest of the week.

What I would give for one of her steak and kidney pies or apple pies now.

Whatever I did June supported me. She would go to the track and time me lap after lap. When I was off playing bridge or quizzing she would often just sit in the wings and watch. When I was competing at something I always heard her voice above all others. I was always amazed that June took so much pleasure from my books. She was such a calm placid person I could never imagine her getting too excited about anything and yet when each of my books came out June would go to every bookshop she could travel to and ensure they stocked it.

My latest book turned up yesterday and I took my copy to the hospital to show June but it was a futile gesture. My June no longer has any awareness as the delirium overwhelms.

Oh God how I wish it were me in that bed instead of her.

Friends come and go, good friends stay, loyal friends are rare. June was unique. I knew her. I knew her values. I knew what she thought. I trusted her more than I trusted myself. I felt safe. Secure that whatever the world threw at me June was there supporting me telling me everything would be alright. And it was. June made it so.

Through all my flights of fancy June was steadfast and remained supportive.

June was universally loved by all and could get on with prince or pauper. We often played host to some of the country’s top brains and whether we had Kev Ashman, Chris Hughes, Mike Billson or Tony Sherwood staying with us her maternal instinct would come out and she would fuss them and talk about ordinary things. She was the same with Magnus Magnusson and Jeremy Beadle. She loved them both dearly but spoke to them as she would her brother. No pedestals no side no front just made everyone feel special and most of all me.

I’ve always got angry if people disrespected June either directly or otherwise.

In the early days of June’s illness she had a nasty fall whilst visiting my father in Weymouth. My brother thought this disrupted the holiday and we fell out over it and I haven’t seen him since except for him to tell me to “get off my land”

If I did not have faith that I would one day be reconciled with June I would be overwhelmed with grief. As it is I am constantly panicking and find it very difficult to come to terms with the fact that June really isn’t coming home and more than that she is wasting away in a hospital bed.

The great June, the great unsung hero, my idol, the girl of my dreams. How blessed have I been and how alone am I now? If I had no faith all would be lost and I could not go on with the pain.

 I cannot help June any longer. I can only watch as strangers dress her bed sores not knowing who she is and what she has been to me and so many many others.

What I would give to have her back even as she was a month ago.

Please pray that God’s will is that June passes quickly and gently and is transported to Heaven and that we might one day be reconciled