Goodbye Girl

On the bus.

It’s an odd feeling, lost in the gap between nostalgia and dread. These beautiful lush green hills rolling alongside the motorway, the skeletal yet welcoming winter oaks and birches… all part of a longing I never knew ached inside me. England, with its beautiful green and husky greys, has become a country of permanent goodbyes.

In the words of Craig Colby Ewert, “he is not completely gone as long as one person remembers his name”.

Wednesday mourning.

The sun forced its way through the crack in the curtains, crawled up my body and eased open my eyes with its lover’s warmth. I pushed him aside hatefully. By burying my head in the pillow I hoped I would fall back into the beautiful empty oblivion which had rescued me from the day before. Memories swarmed in.

There was nothing left but to get up.

Days like these, you try not to get up too early, but however long you doze through the morning, you end up facing endless hours of sitting, standing, hands in pockets, meandering aimlessly from room to room, peering at each clock you pass, trying to look at your watch without anyone noticing.

There’s nothing to say.

To be honest, there’s still nothing to say.

The sun tried desperately to bring hope into a dark corner of our lives. He poured in strongly through every orifice. He wrapped his warm rays around the two quiet children, the empty husband.

  

“Summer dreams ripped at the seams.”

 The Jimmy Choo’s. The pink Iphone. The pink handbag. The toothy grin that spelled out the “ee” in “cheese”. The loud laugh. The incessant bantering on the phone. The continual singing, especially Grease songs, or songs from whatever show my cousins were taking part in. The word “fabulous!” which no-one else can quite say the same way. The amount of Christmas dinner she could not quite hide away. But certainly put away. The hippos. And more hippos. And, oh yes, MORE hippos. Everywhere, more noticeably before my cousin was born, there were hippos everywhere. I counted over 150 once, and apparently there were more in the attic waiting for new home.

She was a supportive person. A fun person. A happy person. A person who taught me to make the most of each opportunity. The person who showed me the bright side of life better than anyone else. Now that she is gone (too young -way too young), I can still see a bright side. She did not suffer. She did not deteriorate and watch on helplessly as her body was degraded by illness and age. She did not, and would not have chosen to die that day. But she went in her sleep. Many people would give everything they own to go in peace as she did. Knowing this makes it bearable. It’s no less sad. But it seems a little less unfair.

I will, and do, miss you.