Saturday September 16th 2017.

Today should of been our wedding day. Lennon was going to walk me down the aisle.

Instead, we went to the Crematorium to collect Lennon’s ashes. It was hard – knowing that he should of been holding my hand, walking down the aisle beside me this afternoon. Instead I was carrying him out of the Crematorium to the car, in a bag. He feels so light.

I sat in the car with his ‘scatter tube’ on my lap and sobbed.

The warm tears running down my cheeks feel so familiar now. In a way that I can not explain, I feel happier when I am sad – I am happiest when I am thinking of Lennon, but sadness always appears when Lennon is in my head.

It feels strangely comforting having his remains with us. Another feeling that I can not explain. I miss him dreadfully, and I want to hold onto every tiny little piece of his being and his life. Almost like trying to prove he was here, that the last 10 years did happen – they weren’t just a dream.

We wanted to mark today in some way, just Ian and I. We have been researching things to do all week and drawn a blank every time. Maybe because we know what should of been happening today or maybe because we haven’t yet remembered how to enjoy life without Lennon?

In the end my parents kindly took the girls for a sleepover and we jumped on a train to London.

On our many trips and stays in Great Ormond St Hospital over the last 10 years we always took Lennon for long walks around the West End and the City. Lennon loved being outside, especially in London. He enjoyed the hustle and bustle of the crowds.

We made our way to Covent Garden, had lunch and booked theatre tickets to see School of Rock – appropriate in that Lennon adored Jack Black (At one point we actually believed that Lennon thought Jack Black was Ian, when he watched him in his beloved children’s show Yo Gabba Gabba).

We then walked down to The Southbank – a walk we had taken with Lennon on many occasions.

I’m so used to pushing Lennon’s wheelchair everywhere that walking makes my hands feel so very empty. I feel awkward when I walk, my arms hang by my sides heavily. My hands weighed down by my grief.

We rode on the flying swings and booked to travel on The London Eye.

At 4pm when we should of been getting married, we were up in the sky above London. As I took in the London skyline, I thought of Lennon and how much he would of enjoyed siting in a clear pod, high above the water. I closed my eyes tight and imagined him there beside me, his beaming smile, mouth wide open and his skinny arms flapping rapidly.

I loved the way he always seemed to experience the world so differently, he appeared to see things we didn’t.

We went for drinks on the Southbank, in an enclosed area (which Ian likened to being ‘In the Night Garden’, another of Lennon’s favourite television shows). We spoke about Lennon, his life, and his death. We relived the happy times and the sad times, sharing our laughter and tears.

Ian is the only person in the whole world who knows how I truly feel. He is the only person who has seen what I’ve seen, and experienced what I’ve experienced. We have shared extreme highs and dark lows. I feel closer to him now than I ever have, and I know that I could not of survived the last 6 weeks – no, the last 11 years, without him.

School of Rock was fantastic. Dewey Finn played by Gary Trainor was perfect for the part – I almost believed he was Jack Black at points in the performance. He portrayed even the slightest traits of Jack’s quirky personality.

And the kids were incredible, so young yet so talented. Happiness beaming from their innocent faces. I wondered if I would ever again genuinely feel as happy as they looked …..

We walked back to Holborn through the quiet, dimly lit back streets. My hands still empty and heavy, but the shattered pieces of my heart full of love for the man who has held me up and kept me ambulate over the last 6 weeks. The man whom I should of married today. But Lennon clearly had other ideas!

What we have experienced hand in hand, side by side, is so much more meaningful and deeper than saying ‘I do’.

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