Reality hit: I was about to give birth to a dead man's child': I became a widow and single mother aged 26
Briefly

My husband's death smelled of cardamom. Death smells of many things, but my first memory of it was of cardamom and soft butter buns. It was Sunday morning.
He told me that I had to come to the cardiac unit immediately. I screamed again. Then I heard Elmer crying from his cot. A switch inside me flipped.
I felt the blood drain from my pounding head, the sweat on my hands turning to ice. Suddenly I was calm. A sharply focused but remote kind of calm.
Read at www.theguardian.com
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