The living room is a blur of activity and faces. As I walk around, some nod in my direction, some come up for the kiss on the cheek and hug. I just smile blankly and slink through the murmuring crowd to reach the stairs. I walk straight past Adrian's study and reach my bedroom. I resist the cliche to go and stand by the window and look out, and instead walk over to my bookshelf. My fingers gently run along the neatly arranged books, sorted alphabetically of course. An almost invisible fine layer of dust is beginning to settle on them, and I am filled with the urge to strip the house bare and start cleaning - to scrub, wax, polish and wipe every surface and every room. I pick up a snow globe that we found at a market in Paris, and as I shake it I watch the fragments of my life swirl and dance around a plastic Eiffel Tower. Familiar memories and street noises creep into my mind, and I set the globe down again sharply, almost breaking it. I sit down on my bed and the dogs come in from the next room, their voices muted by Adrian's absence. Rehearsed expressions, scripted lines - they all failed to come to me today. I called Dianne first, and she was on the next plane out to see me - there is no love greater than a mother's for her son. I rang my mum to tell her too, and she said she was sorry for me. I asked if she could come out to see me and she hung up.

I snap out of my trance of self-pity to find Dianne standing at the door. Despite her age, she looks timeless, and it's easy to see where Adrian got his looks from. She is carrying a small platter of food, servings of the various dishes people have brought over. Why do people always bring food? I ask to no-one in particular. Dianne smiles slightly and sets the platter down on the bed. When the soul is broken, all that's left to feed is the stomach she answers musingly. I wonder how things will be now between us. Before, Adrian was the common link, the binding force between us. Now we're just two strangers sitting in a bedroom.

You are reading this post on a blog is no longer maintained - please visit www.outinmyhead.com instead!