How they are

Last night I dreamt I had cancer and merely weeks to live. The single feeling inside me was fear for my daughters, for their future, their wellbeing and their happiness, nothing else.

I am regularly asked how the girls are, how they are coping, feeling. They are suffering terribly. Both of them have separation anxiety, a need to know where I am all the time. They are sleeping badly, having bad dreams, dreams about me, about Daddy.

My five year old has regular bursts of real upset; she has surgically attached herself to the silver heart that contains Keith's ashes. She says, it's not fair that everyone at school has a dad and we don't. She says, I don't believe you, I think he is going to come back. She cries properly, real tears of sadness, and all she says is I want Daddy. I want him to come and give me a kiss before I go to sleep.

My six and a half year old is angry, very angry. At school and with others she is contained, controlled, comfortable. At home she takes it out on me. She is abusive, verbally and physically, hitting, screaming. I get her to hit pillows, rip up newspaper, shout. We read books about death and she soaks them up. I tell her it's alright, it won't last forever. She writes her feelings down and keeps the book under her pillow. She made worry dolls from plasticine and talks to them at night. Then she tells me, she says, I am worried about four things. I am worried I will get sick and die, that Daddy will never come back, that great-grandma will die, that we will never go home. She means Sydney, she is desperate to go 'home', to the place where we were last where everything was OK. 

I have to be careful to not attribute difficult behaviour solely to the loss of their father: they are for the most part normal five and six year old siblings, delightful and infuriating in equal measure. However I am furious that part of the innocence has already been chipped away. Isn't that the greatest sadness in the world? When children have hope and love and safety ripped from them. Mine are a bit broken at the moment, but with time they will be stitched back together, and as Bunkers, they will be stronger as a result.

People ask how to be with them; be normal. Treat them like kids. Try not to overcompensate with things like sugar and presents (don't tell them I said that) and don't worry, they'll be ok, in time, I'm sure.