Is it Friday already? Wow, that week went quick🙂
Today’s piece of fiction was prompted by this photo…
A big thank you to Dominic de Mattos for allowing me to use it here…
My Darling Trevor,
Im sitting on the bench, our bench…the one you carved our initials into with that cheap imitation Swiss army knife all those years ago. Theres a Costa now where the greasy cafe used to be so i have a cappuccino in an awful paper cup. You’d hate it.
Susie offered to come with me, but i said no. I wanted to be on my own in this special place, to relive
my our memories without interruption. The grief counsellor (yes, i know, you hated all that mumbo jumbo psychology stuff) has said that i should write in my journal daily. I thought it sounded a rather silly idea, but now, sitting here, my biro gliding across the page I’m beginning to think there is some merit in writing down my thoughts. I bought a blue journal because the colour reminded me of your eyes.
Do you remember how you got down on one knee here? If i close my eyes i can picture you like it was yesterday. That sparkle in your eye just visible from beneath your quiff. How thrilled you were to catch me off guard. And how i giggled when you stood up to discover you’d knelt in a puddle and your crimson brothel creepers were covered in mud! Not so much the romantic gesture you’d pictured. But how we laughed, tears streaming down our faces.
Why didn’t we come back here? Its not fair that I’m sitting here on my own. My emotions range from utter shock to anger then onto total denial. I always knew it would be hard, you going first, and sometimes the pain is so great that i feel like I’m drowning. I just want it to stop but i don’t know how. I keep asking why…why did you have to leave me?
Susie has been brilliant. She is so like you, practical, in control. But i worry that when she goes home at night her true feelings emerge. I hope she doesn’t feel that she needs to be strong for me. I am the parent, i should be the one giving support. It was her idea that i revisit the places we loved.
I miss you so much…your touch, your smell, your smile. I haven’t washed our bedlinen for 6 weeks. I can’t bring myself to do it. Ive told Susie that she may just have to bury me in it! Melodramatic? Probably…but you know me, I’m a stubborn old goat.
Well my darling, i think i will end it there. The counsellor will be proud of me, I’ve written a whole page! I need to stand up, my arthritis is playing up today and if i don’t get up now i will find it difficult to walk to the bus stop.
Its been 1 month, 6 days, 14 hours and 43 minutes…i don’t think i’ll ever stop counting.
Forever… Judith xxx
Awwww, poor Judith😦 If i turned this into a short story i could probably have Trevor responding…or would that be too far fetched?