Black Confetti

All I did was go away for the weekend; by the time I'd returned, my husband had killed himself. It was thirteen years into my marriage before I realised Simon had bipolar. Despite our difficulties, I was living the life I'd always dreamt of. We were renovating our Victorian home, working hard in our respective careers, and considering adopting our second child. However, with each manic episode, my dreams were slowly deteriorating into heartbreak and sadness.  In this raw and honest memoir,