Monday 29 Sept, 10 days after

Monday 29 Sept 

I am 29; my trials have started at 28 and a half when my partner at that time fell out of love with me and shortly after, my mother passed away suddenly, having suffered an an aneurysm at the age of 56. As I was graduating this crash course in life, death, pain and acceptance, the most wonderful reward was given to me - I fell in love with the most unlikely man and after having confessed our love to each other, he died in a car crash at the age of 27, after 5 perfect weeks spent together. This was 19 Sept 2014, a little over two weeks before the 1 year anniversary of my mother's death.

Grieving is horrible -there is no sugar coating it because it shatters your being to the very last fibre and it's relentless. Reasoning helps but the understanding only touches a shallow level of your consciousness, until it sinks in, with the passing of time. Therapists have identified stages, coping mechanism to help you through each one but my grieving hasn't been and isn't so structured - either that, or my stages are measured in hour intervals, or even minutes. I go through stages of deep sorrow, unbearable, sharp - my heart is not simply breaking, it's tearing slowly and ever so painfully; then I feel peace, or even joy caused either by a thought, a word, a person, a memory or an event; then I feel desolation, a deep sadness and emptiness - it's the emptiness that is left behind by all the dreams, projections, even routine that have been taken away along with the person. I've only felt angry for a short while, almost unnoticeable, right after it happened - not angry at a higher instance that took him away, but at him for not being careful enough, at the lorry driver he collided with, at myself for not having picked up on some subtle warning. I still curse at him sometimes, but in the economy of my grieving, it's not even worth mentioning. 

Regret, remorse, guilt - these are the bullets, but they will not kill you instantly, they do it repetitively, each time more intense than the last time, each time together. Reason is the only bullet proof vest, but it feels more like a thin cloth. This time around I was blessed not to be in the firing line - he took away something perfect, he died in a state of bliss and I gave it to him. I am thanked and I find it hard to accept it, because it was easy for me, it reflected off what he had given me and too short lived to stand the trials of mundane life. However, I am ever so happy for him and now I am wearing a beautiful, subtle ring on the ring finger of my left hand, as we are and will always be engaged and he will never have to fear that this happiness will ever be taken away from him. 

Nostalgia drowns you, chokes you - nostalgia of the past but mostly of the future. I find the only protection against it is to replace " I miss you" with " I love you", as it keeps us in the moment and in the abstract, away from hopeful future, from the house with a garden, 2.4 kids and old age bickering. saddens me so much, I get upset and disappointed with myself. 

I am so open right now, so sensitive and vulnerable and one the one hand, I love more - it's overwhelming, it's flooding my soul and it's beautiful. At the same time, anything can hurt me and the hurt feeds my anger and resentment - at other people's happiness, at life that for some goes on and I recognise this as petty and it saddens me so much, I get upset and disappointed with myself. Thankfully, it never prevails. 

I have so many people around me - old and new, close and far away, friends and near strangers who have and are showing me such tremendous love, consideration and listen to me, share with me; they are there, selflessly being around me and I know it's not easy, it's uncomfortable, fuzzy, painful and heavy. But they're still here, some for the second time around, better at talking and being with me and fully aware of times to come, bracing themselves and me. I can't find the words to say Thank You, they don't need them either, but it frustrates me - either they haven't been invented or this is a a pure case of less is more. So I keep saying the same ones over and over again - Thank you, Thank you, Thank you. I feel humbled, grateful, fortunate, I feel loved. There is a community that comes together and it feels good to be part of it, it feels less strenuous although, sometimes the collective pain of the shared loss becomes heavy. I find the indifference of some people hurts, or at least it makes matters worse, although they are the people I never connected with in the first place, or very little and I would never rely on.  

It's too soon yet to think of the time which follows the intense pain caused by the event, the shock, the waiting for the dreaded closing ceremony...the time to come once life is reinstated for most involved and touched by him. I know that time for me will be emptiness, the kind that can only be filled by that which is missing.

I am talking to him, the same way I talk to my mother and mostly ask them to look after me; I ask him to find a way to come back to me, somehow. As I was struggling to find the right song for his funeral ceremony, one of those veteran caregivers, the one who by choice, by destiny - or whatever name it goes by and by practicality has been through this, day after day the first time around and is still here now, went to Liverpool. She went to the famous Cathedral and inside there was a lit sign saying: I felt you and I knew you loved me. She thought of us - there was little else on her mind then, even though her younger sister was visiting and they had just started to really connect. She took a picture and sent it to me, smiling and thanking him. She was wandering aimlessly through the streets of the city I had fallen in love with just a few month earlier, when she stumbled on a small church - she was drawn there by music, her kind of music, music that reminded her of an amazing night out we had all spent together..he was there, with three gorgeous girls, the envy of the entire pub. She saw a gate, on the gate a large, red heart, on the heart, a lock and on the lock the word Fragile. She froze, as this was the title of one of his favourite songs. The magic started when she realised a song was playing in the background and she heard the words Goodbye Baby, Baby Goodbye. She found the song and called me in a state of euphoria - the words were goodbye baby, I'm stepping out of your world and I know you won't like it, but I must go home..I'm coming to your party and you know I can't stay, but I'll give you a kiss before I go away. The best part of it was deep in your heart you know I'm coming back... For the first time since he died, I felt happy and this was the song I chose. Do people still talk to you when they go? He does ...he knew my mind is in over drive, my soul shattered, my senses hyphened so he made sure he gave the message to someone he could trust to understand it and pass it on to me. She also told me: in the next few days, weeks, months, don't think of what you should do about yourself, with yourself, don't look for anything within you; instead, try to look around you, to listen to people's conversations, to watch and he'll whisper some more. That night, as I laid in bed, calm, alert, i heard a loud I LOVE YOU from the street, followed by muffled speech. For me, this is enough and I don't need reassurance, research or confirmation.