Day 22 – Dialling into a Void

Just now, I had a really powerful feeling of wanting to call Lynne on the phone. And then a similarly powerful feeling of not being able to…. dialling into a void. Silence.

A dark and unpleasant feeling. Muddy green. Gristly, how jealousy feels.


Day 21 – How are you?

Losing someone to suicide, with all its stigma, you find out who is really there for you.

Real friends check up on you and ask you how you are. They don’t say things like ‘you’ll get over it’. They remind you that you have as much time as you need to grieve. That your feelings and emotions are valid.

When I told my dad I was going up to a funeral, he didn’t ask who’s it was.

My wife is tacitly supportive which is ok. She doesn’t ask about Lynne but she clearly cares that I’m ok.

Day 17 Scattered

In Manchester today with my family. Lots of reminders everywhere. Mind scattered around different thoughts, memories and feelings.

Need to see Lynne’s friend, L. Feel so bad for her. She’s lost her best friend. Today she said she couldn’t believe she’ll never see Lynne’s beautiful face again. Me too. Also was trying to hear her voice in my head.

Day 16 – weird thoughts weird times

Just finished work. First proper warm day after the long winter. In the office on my own. Now would have been a time to call Lynne and witter on about everything and nothing for about an hour. Remembering that I can’t do that now feels very flat. I really miss her.

Thoughts are occasionally getting weird. At the end of my yoga practice, in savasana (corpse pose), I started thinking about what Lynne might feel like, being dead. Motionless, unaware, peaceful, quiet, never having responsibilities. But I’ve also thought of the life-affirming things that she’ll never again experience – music, kissing, caresses, seeing, dancing, laughing. I’m glad I still have such a window on the world.

Talking to JM about next week’s funeral, i guessed that there would probably be a lot of people there who don’t know each other. JM reminded me that I can duck out at any time and shouldn’t feel obliged to drink with lots of strangers. That was a nice thing to say. The funeral feels like my last chance to connect with Lynne.

I contacted her friend L tonight to see how she was getting on. I had a funny feeling that she might not yet know what had happened to Lynne. I was right. I had to call her back and break the awful news to her. Of course, to her, it was like it had only just happened and it was heartbreaking to hear her trying to process it. They were really good friends and, although their relationship was sometimes turbulent, L loved Lynne very much. She also suffered from bipolar syndrome and didn’t know how to support Lynne after her first accident. Then she lost touch and didn’t know how to contact her. She’ll be feeling so bad right now and going through all those feelings of self-blame and wondering how she could have done more. I really feel for her. I can’t believe no one told her.

Day 15 – Pull Yourself Together Lad.

I get this thing before a funeral where I imagine the person who’d died will be there at the church gate, welcoming us all, wishing us all a good time.

Now is about the time when it feels like I’m going on about it too much. Perhaps I should shake myself off, gather myself up and get on with it. Even these blog posts… too many? Dwelling on it too much? How long does it actually take to get over losing someone? If ever?

Day 14 – Numb

Today I feel numb. Slightly guilty that I’m not feeling it as intensely. No wailing in the car. No gut wrenching pain and tears. Telling people about it, I see their shock and sympathy but I feel detached from it. The funeral is next week. I won’t know anyone there. There’ll be a conflict between the politeness of first meetings and the open rawness of grief.