Letter to Mike – August 2021.

Hey My Heart,

Ten months came and went without me even noticing. I couldn’t believe it when I’d looked at the calendar and realised I’d missed the actual date. I thought about it in the run up, as I always do, but somehow the day itself escaped me. It was actually my first night in the house alone since you died – an incredible amount of time and a testament to the love and care our friends and family have shown me. And it was tough, I won’t lie – so in a way, I suspect my brain was protecting me by not allowing me to acknowledge the date. Combined, it might have been too much.

Ten months. Longer now than the period of time we went without contact before we got together. The longest I’ve gone without hearing from you since the day we met. And yet you are still such a presence in my life – still with me every day. I talk about you – and to you – every day. Not in a melancholy way – sometimes, but usually just… you’re there, part of my internal life, part of my routine. Where I used to talk to myself I now talk to you. And I like that. It’s a way of carrying you with me, always. A part of me.

I follow an amazing grief blogger on Instagram called Mira Simone. She, more than anyone, puts words to my experience of grief when I can’t. Her writing lifts me up and heals me, helps me to understand that no matter how it may feel, I’m not treading this path alone. It’s a well-worn one, walked by millions and millions of women and men before me. The other day she posted a video about what grief feels like which really resonated with me. She ended it with a simple fact: “grief is love”. Grief is love.

And that’s exactly it. As time goes on, my grief has become precious to me. It’s something I treasure, and nurture. Something I hold within myself. I wish I didn’t have to – of course I do, I wish more than anything you were still here, and me and Grief had never had to become acquainted. But that isn’t possible, and so now all I have is my grief – a marker of the love that we shared, the love for you that I still carry. That’s not to say I wallow in it – I don’t, I am positive and proactive and all the things you would want me to be. But I honour it. I feel privileged to be the person mourning for you, just as I felt privileged to be your person. You were beautiful, inside and out. You were wonderful. You were my soulmate. Grief is the price I have to pay for getting to love you, and I pay it gladly. You were worth it. You still are.

I love you, Mikey. I always have. I always will.

Your Ems 💖