Grief: one year on

Wolf by Paul in Seattle

I don’t think it ever fades. It heals, but even as you run your fingers over there’s always a scar. The memories are woven into my fabric and I can’t ever forget, not completely.

I’m still angry. I still want to scream at him. On the bad days, it’s why did you get to do that and I didn’t? Why did you take my chance away? How could you stop fighting, when I can’t? On the good days it’s why couldn’t I help? Why didn’t I see? Why didn’t you just come back one last time?

And every time, there’s a heartbeat of uncertainty. Did you know? How long were you planning it? Did you lie to me?

I miss him. It’s not every day, now – I’m somewhere different, in a different life, a different place and time. In many ways, it now just feels like another strand to the loss. It’s not as biting, it’s not as fierce; it’s just another tug amongst many others. I usually think of him when I find things I want to share – a board game, a place, a joke. I recently discovered that there’s crossover Dresden Files and My Little Pony fanfic, which I’m not sure if he would have loved or hated, but I would have liked to find out!

I haven’t played Dresden – or any other rpg. I haven’t touched the files. I can’t face those worlds again; I can’t pick up the stories. That’s a scar that I don’t dare touch until it’s healed a little more, even though the loss stings bitterly.

I’m still in touch with his mother almost every day; there’s going to be a memorial tree in Cirencester Memorial Gardens, and Claire and I went down to the lock gates a few months ago so that she could see come on our favourite walk. It was a beautiful, sunny day, and we spent several hours sitting on the gates and talking! But I’ve moved away and he’s not here, much as I’d like him to have been; I think he would have liked Salisbury.

It’s been a year. I’m still angry. And I’m still hurt. But it’s slowly, slowly healing.