Frozen

I’ve often wished I could see you and tell you all about the day that you decided to leave and all the days since. I’ve wanted to put how I’m feeling into words for so long but grief has the weirdest affect on your brain. One day you’re full of words and thoughts and feelings and the next day its like a thick fog descends and you just function, applauding yourself for just getting out of bed. 

Time waits for no one, time is precious, time flies, time heals all wounds. It’s a popular thing, time. When we are young we wish our time away and when we get older or ill we always wish there was more time. I often wonder what you thought the day you decided to leave, did you think you’d had all the time you needed?

The day you left, time stood still. The seconds turned into minutes, which turned into hours which turned into days, weeks and months. Nothing strange there, yet even though we felt the shift of time and how basically ‘life goes on’ it didn’t for us, it froze on that blisteringly hot, sunny August afternoon.

Eight months have passed, yet in just a thought I can be transported back to the horror of that afternoon, and sadly those fleeting thoughts still happen far too regularly. I can vividly remember the look on everyone’s faces, the paramedics with such sadness in their eyes, the doctor who attended who told us he had a daughter the same age as you and how devastated he was for us. The police and the look of embarrassment and awkwardness as they had to ask the standard questions around alcohol, drugs and if you’d made any attempts on your life before and the cold, hard look of other individuals who seemed to lack any form of emotion never mind empathy.

So you see, when you made that decision to leave us, we became frozen in time, our minds forever drawn back to that horrific day when our old lives ended with yours and our new lives as a bereaved by suicide family began.

We miss you beyond the stars Nevey girl

Mum x