My beloved, poor Luke. His mother passed away at 10pm last night. She had had a rare form of a stroke (I think?) at 8am that morning. There was a lot of bleeding in her brain and they were just waiting for the pressure to get to the part of the brain that controlled her breathing. She was in no pain. She looked at peace. She waited for her oldest child to arrive by plane to her bedside and she passed away half an hour after his arrival, with all seven (I think?) children and her husband by her side.
Luke slept at his parents house last night and I arrived there at 8am this morning to carry out my boyfriend duty of being by his side while he sobbed continuously all day long. It wasn't boring like I worried it would be. It was sad and beautiful. They spent the whole day arranging the funeral which will be held on Friday. He and his siblings loved their mother so much, that is obvious. I am in awe of their love and feel honoured to have been accepted into their family by his mother when she was still with us. I do. What an amazing woman.
Seeing Luke like this breaks my heart. Have never seen him so shattered, so helpless, so vulnerable. For the first time I can see and accept wholly that he needs me. Here he is, sleeping half naked by my side. He crashed. Didn't sleep a wink last night, he told me. Now he's in the deepest, heaviest sleep.
I ate dinner with his family tonight. Luke looked at me with tears and kissed me at the dinner table in front of his dad, his siblings, his siblings' partners and their children. My poor Luke is so emotionally exhausted. Gonna cook him breakfast tomorrow morning and we can eat it together in bed.
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