
In the last 12 hours I have come to the realisation that grief is a living thing. Ironic really. You lose a loved one and then grief forces its way into the room. It’s tangible. You can see it sat there, a big hulk of a black brooding mass; never leaving your side, following you around. When you find yourself laughing at something, grief tuts and taps you on the shoulder to remind you that you shouldn’t be having fun. You feel its cold breath on your neck. It taunts you, making you feel like a bad friend. Grief reminds you that sometimes you could have been a better friend. Grief is cruel, it picks at your scabs until they bleed.
When someone dies you struggle with what to say. Yesterday evening, on the hottest day of the year so far, my friend passed away. She was brave and she fought like a warrior to the very end. She was the friend whose story inspired me to get fit. Last year saw me running a race; up and down hills, from Gorey to St Catherine’s Breakwater and back again. 10k. Those that know me will realise that this was a massive achievement. I ran because I could. Muttering swear words under my breath as I fought to run up steep hills. I ran because I realised I needed to make the most of my life, like S always did. I had planned on running a half-marathon this year but then life got in the way. I need to run that half-marathon. I owe S. In January I started this blog. Again, she was the inspiration behind the blog. I needed to write because I can. I never told her that she was the inspiration behind the running and I never told her that she was the inspiration behind the blog. I didn’t tell her how I mentioned her in my speech when I accepted the award for this blog. I didn’t tell her how happy it made me when she said she enjoyed my blog. I didn’t tell her because there never seemed to be the right time. I didn’t tell her because she was going through her battle. I should have told her; I now realise that there is never a right time. I think she would have loved the fact that this blog won an award.
I don’t know what the right thing to do is: or if I should be writing this. However, I write to make sense of everything but, for the first time I find myself wrestling with words. There are no words. I find myself stifled by the unfairness of it all. Struggling to articulate how this shouldn’t have happened; how life can be so very cruel. Yesterday, when I found out that my beautiful friend had lost her battle I did what I always do: I read; I turned to poetry. I read reams of beautiful poems, all seemingly inadequate. None were good enough. None expressed the grief you feel at losing someone so lovely, so caring. None of them expressed how it feels to lose a friend who was young, a wonderful wife, and a brilliant mother to her two young children. I feel that I owe it to her to write something worthy, I feel that I need to tell the world about how she was this determined, resilient, organised, lovely young woman. How she would have demanded that life goes on. How she would want us to remember the good times, with a glass of Prosecco in hand. Whilst that seems right, it also seems very cruel. It feels like the world should have stopped turning out of respect for S.
When I moved to Jersey she told me that she admired my ability to start again, that she felt I was brave for moving away from family and friends. At the time I didn’t appreciate what she meant. I might have even scoffed at what she was saying. But now she has passed on, I find myself reflecting, and for the first time, I think I truly appreciate the sentiment behind her words. It’s times like these that we need our family around us. She was all about family. I can’t even imagine how her family must be feeling. In trying to make sense of it all; in trying to write this, I have realised that there are no words: that death and grief doesn’t make sense. This time my words can’t fix it, this time my words can’t put it right. However, in writing this I have recognised that it’s ok to laugh: it’s ok to cry. Grief might be in the room but it doesn’t mean that there can be no light.
Writing about this isn’t enough. S would have wanted action. I need to take action. I need to do her memory proud.
We were due to meet up next month, and although it will be painful, the rest of our small group will still meet and raise a glass in memory of S.
Do not stand at my grave and weep.
I am not there; I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning’s hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft star that shines at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there; I did not die
Mary Elizabeth Frye
I’m really sorry to read this, and sending you lots of love Emma – I know it must be hard to write when you are going through so much grief but the poem you chose is beautiful and so are you words. You’re right, sometimes there are things we don’t say because the timing is not right but I think it’s incredible that you’ve written this amazing blog, all inspired by your wonderful friend, even if she didn’t know she was the inspiration behind it (if that makes any sense). Hope you take care of yourself lovely xxx
I love that poem, it expresses everything I strongly feel about death. I’m so, so sorry for your loss Em. I’m sure S was super proud of you regardless of what you spoke about. xxx
Oh Emma there really are no words but yours are so beautiful. Just heartbroken for your loss and my tears are for you, for your bravery and for what a wonderful friend you must have been xxx S would have been so so proud and thankful xxx
So sorry to hear of your loss. A good friend of mine passed away last year. We still talk about him on his Facebook page, we still meet up and there are plans to go to his favourite folk festival next month to remember him. It’s hard, and surreal but your friends are really important. It makes us all realise that we have to get on with life – and hit those goals… best of luck with it all.
You were on my mind this morning after I heard the news last night and this post popped up. It brought a lump to my throat. It’s heartbreakingly beautiful, poignant, touching and an emotional, powerful tribute, just “. “.
I don’t know what to say. Only that S’s family and you are in my prayers.
Sending my love and prayers.
Oh Emma, I’m so sorry to read about the death of your friend. How heartbreaking. Grief is a complicated thing, be kind to yourself. Lots and lots of love xx
Beautiful words Emma. I know you will do your friend proud. Thinking of you. xxxx
Oh Emma, I am so sorry to read this. I’ve been pretty quiet on social media and blog reading lately and only just saw this. S would have been so proud of you and your blog. Sending you lots of love xx
I’m so sorry, Emma. Your post has touched me and I have a tear forming in my eye. Grief and loss are horrible things and I really can relate in some way. Please take care, you know the Tribe is here for you if you need us. #TribalLove
This is probably the most beautiful thing I have ever read. I am so sorry for the loss of your wonderful friend. I know what it’s like to feel like the rising of the sun is disrespectful on days darkened by such grief.
I’m sorry to hear this Emma, losing someone close is just horrible and it seems just so unfair when they have young children and so much of life left to give. Take care of yourself xxx
I’m so sorry to hear this. Thinking of you, your friend and her family. Beautiful post as always, and a fitting tribute. #tribe
Emma, I am so so sorry for the loss of your friend. That poem is a beautiful one and one that has always helped give me a little comfort in times of grief. I have no words that will ease your pain, but just wanted to let you know that I am thinking of you and sending big virtual hugs your way xx #
This is so beautiful Emma. I’m so sorry to read this and am sending all positive thoughts and hugs your way. Although you didn’t say those things to your friend I am sure S knew how much you value her and how important your friendship was. I’m sure she was very proud to call you a friend. I’m so sorry for your loss and there really are no words, so I will stop writing. Ellen xx
No words can ever be enough, but your ones are beautiful. I’m really sorry to hear about your loss but I’m glad that you have so many good memories of her that will always be with you. Love to you all.
My condolences Hun. I wish I had something wonderful, clever and meaningful to write but words fail me. All I can say is that I am here for you as are all your blogging friends I’m sure. Beautiful words and I hope your happy memories bring you some solace in your grief ❤️
I’m so sorry to hear of the loss of your beautiful friend. What a tribute this is and what an incredible friendship you clearly had. I have little to offer by way of comfort, but I hope that writing and reading will offer some solace for you or a safe place to work through how you’re feeling. I believe that grief can be wibbly-wobbly rather than a linear trajectory, some days will feel crippling and some will feel sort of OK, and that’s OK too. Thinking of you and your small group of friends, I hope you get to meet next month.
A beautiful post, the poem is wonderful x
How heartbreaking and sad losing anyone close 🙁 Lovely post and well said xxxx Hugs xx