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0 By Frances Beck
Time continues to be a conundrum for me. It has now been 6 months since you left this earthly plane. Just like that! 6 months, 26 weeks, 181 days. 6 months since you couldn’t bear your pain any longer, 6 months since your depression took you from us, 6 months that I didn’t think would be possible to bear. And yet here I am, still standing. 6 months that with each passing day I miss you more and more. 6 months that have been the longest of my life.
I am not the same person as I was 6 months ago, nor will I ever be again, but I have survived. Some of those days have been easier than others. It’s always the unexpected that catches me off guard and knocks the wind from me. Hearing a significant song on the radio, seeing something that sparks a significant memory, being asked a significant question by a random stranger, and random acts of kindness have all caused the floodgates to open. And then there’s the guilt of moving forward in my life or just having some fun on those easier days. I know it’s not rational. It’s certainly not something that Conor would want me to feel, but it’s there nonetheless. I am getting better at talking myself round, but that’s only after I’ve beaten myself up for it.
A small white feather
I continue to look out for signs that Conor is still around me and am not often disappointed. I feel selfish for wanting him to remain close to me because I don’t want to tie his spirit down in any way, but I don’t know how to, or if I ever would be able to let him go, even if I knew how.
I’ve spent the last couple of weeks with my daughter at my parent’s home in Andalusia, Spain, and yes, that has involved the aforementioned guilt. The evening before we flew out, I had a conversation with Conor about feeling strange about going and whether he’d still be with me. He let me know he was there with me the morning after I arrived. I lifted a vest top out of my suitcase, and a small white feather was attached to the strap. There’s nothing at home with feathers, so nowhere else for it to have come from.
He’s still with me
On Sunday, I was in the busy train station in Malaga waiting for a train. I suddenly, and very briefly, caught the smell of Conor’s aftershave, as I often do. I didn’t say anything but thought “Oh I wonder if that was you?” Minutes later I looked down to find another small white feather stuck to the front of my ankle. I believe it was Conor letting me know he’s still with me and approves of me continuing to live my life as best I can. ??
Despite the guilt and the inevitable difficult moments, we had a lovely, peaceful break. The most important thing is that lots of great memories were made with my daughter, parents and friends. Lots of precious photographs were taken. If I’ve learned anything in the last 6 months, it’s that our time with our loved ones is not promised or guaranteed. We really must make the most of the time and opportunities we have. I’m sad to have left my mum and dad behind. I’m happy to be home, though, to see and spend time with my younger son, other close friends and family, and of course our cats, all of whom I missed while we were away.
UNITED STATES
UNITED KINGDOM
[…] doesn’t mean that Conor isn’t still a major part of my life; he always will be, in the same way as his brother and sister, and I’ll continue to talk about them all in the […]