I wrote this post on 15 March 2013, just a month after Abi died. I needed to document the trauma and stress that I’d had to live, to get it out of my head in some way. I still remember every moment. I will be resharing my story of our terrible time, more for those readers who are struggling to come to terms with a similar sudden loss. I pray it brings them some comfort, just to know they’re not alone.
Having been transferred to Frenchay Hospital, we were first shown to a private ground-floor waiting room which was homely, with modern furnishings and a kitchenette. The policeman who had driven us over from Gloucester made us a cup of tea before he left. It was now around 1.30am, but the night was just starting for us.