Post-Holiday Blues

We had such a great time. So completely wonderful. The right balance of everything. We came home on Saturday evening and on Sunday I was inconsolable. Today I was on top form getting back into my life and the future. Tonight I woke up with a horrible sadness. There are so many things to say.
On the answerphone on our return there were twelve messages, ten from the fish man saying that I forgot to pay him, one enquiry about an RSVP I hadn't sent, and one from my sister Jan. I realised tonight that the absence of a message from my Mum should have been the thing I noticed. As it happened the first conversation I had on my return was with my sister and concerned the hard fact of her cancer refusing to bugger off and of her chemo, in her surgeon's words, 'killing her' and therefore being stopped. She had a brave and positive outlook on how she wants to spend the rest of her life 'however long I've got'. She has been told unequivocally that it will definitely come back even though it is currently in remission. We don't know when or where but the facts remain. Grappling with the solid truth of these words only re-enforced an inner knowledge and a widely acknowledged one. My sister has terminal cancer, there are no magic answers and we must all face our loss and hope that it takes a long time before it hurts her further and kills her. So listening to her speak blinded me to my Mum's absence on the answerphone, her passionate interest in everything we did. I hate telephones, as anyone will tell you, but I missed her voice.
On holiday me and my sister were in text contact about her scan and so I knew even on holiday for certain that the cancer hadn't gone, I knew anyway, you just do somehow. She let me know the scan results while we were away, I couldn't settle and asked her to tell me. The night that I found out I woke up after a really happy day screaming 'no, no, no!'. In my dream someone was stealing something of such importance away from me and I was desperate that they wouldn't take it, there was a figure in the doorway and I was begging for mercy. The screaming was so loud that it even woke up Graham (bear in mind that earthquakes and tornadoes have failed). The next day I carried on as normal.
Our minds must store these things away. After a constructive and positive peaceful day today tonight I find that suddenly I can't sleep and I can hardly be surprised. On holiday I let it all fall away as much as I could in my conscious moments. The landscape seemed to absorb it better than this one. Without the sea and the sky and the trees it crushes my breath which is simply breathing 'please, not again, not yet'.