Simon was struggling. At the age of 32 he was more or less rendered useless, blind. Once your husband prided himself on just how much he did for his country. The bravery required to do his job, the sheer strength and training behind it all.

Retirement, at 32. Simon had always sworn the day he retired was the day he died, and yet he was still breathing. Maybe dying would’ve been easier.

It had been 3 months since the mission that left Simon permanently disabled, he still couldn’t recall the mission correctly. He’d been told what occurred but it was all a blur to him. It was clear Simon was struggling, adjusting to a life he’d never envisioned.

You had done everything you could to aid him, though with your full time job it wasn’t easy. Through social media you had found as many gadgets as you could to help, spending hours researching.

Recently you’d put the house up for sale, the home you imagined staying in forever was no longer suitable. And though it hurt to part with the memories made there you knew your new place would have its own. You needed a bungalow, something smaller and more accessible. Meanwhile, your house was okay.