A letter to Em. You are missed.

Trigger warning: please look after yourself and your mental health as you read or choose to stop reading.

Dear Em

I miss you. It’s been a lifetime since we just sat quietly together or laughed together. It’s been an age since I saw your spirit break through and radiate around the room. And yet, you still pop into my mind when I want to share good news, or need someone to commiserate with me.

I wonder sometimes about what we would chat about now. I imagine you hanging out and loving on my daughter. I can almost feel you cheering me on as I take each next step. How deeply I wish that you were still here. But only if you were free from that anguish and pain; only if your joy and spark were able to burn at their brightest.

I vividly remember that phone call to let me know that you had chosen to leave this world. It is visceral. Grief doesn’t disappear. It fades and shifts, ebbs and flows but the hole is still there. I need you to know that today. I need you to know that you are missed, you are not forgotten and your life mattered. It had an impact and I am better for having known you, no matter how cut short that time was.

I also need you to know that sometimes I am angry. I am angry that you didn’t hold on. I am angry that we never got to see breakthrough happen. I am angry that the wound of losing you has been an obstacle in new friendships. I am angry that we didn’t get to keep sharing our lives together.

I am angry at myself sometimes too. Why didn’t I stay in better contact those last few weeks? Why didn’t I act on that feeling that I needed to speak to you on that last weekend? Why did I put off the important for the sake of the seemingly urgent? I have had to learn to let that wash away. I have had to remind myself that this was your choice to make and that I likely wouldn’t have made a difference in that. I can’t hold on to that responsibility and guilt. It isn’t mine to bear.

Life continues here without you. I see those who loved you finding joy again, and living their lives well and I smile. And I cry. I promise to keep living my life as wholeheartedly as I can. I promise to keep seeking joy. I promise to hold out that hope and joy to others who need it.

Until we meet again in Heaven, sweet friend.



My dear reader.

If you are in that dark place, I want to tell you that there is still so much beauty in this world. There is still hope to be found. Moments of wonder and joy surround us, if only we would tune our eyes to see them. I want to tell you that there are people in this world who can help you to hold on to hope. I want to tell you that your life matters, even if you can’t see that right now. Your choices have an impact on those around you. I don’t want to gloss over your pain or tell you that it doesn’t matter, because it does. It is real and it is hard and it hurts. I know what it is like to walk in that darkness. I know what it is like to find the light again. Find those people who can help walk with you into the light.

Speak to your GP. Call Lifeline. Tell someone!

You are worth fighting for.

Image by sputnikzion on Pixabay

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