The heights and descents, the ebbs and flows. The prints and negatives, the sunrise and fall.
The now everyday contradictions and the things I’m convinced I’ll cope with nicely.
The ‘No problems’, the ‘Nothing to see heres’.
These things often turn out to be,
The things that stab and jab and burn and land the hardest, splice the deepest. They spike and surge and blister up. Opening cavernously, unexpectedly, unashamedly.
Like today’s tsunami, after an undetected under ocean volcanic eruption.
Rising from hidden ancient platonic plates, to cut and divide and devastate everyday lives.
I mean, after all, it’s only a quiet lunchtime drink with some of Izzy’s old school friends.
The ones that remain to this day, framed by her bedside, a group selfie lovingly encased, cherishingly placed.
And later in the day, a visit from her childhood friend, her Nandos and Nachos best buddy, now here with her beloved son and family in tow.
And as the midday breeze chills to an early evening Winter freeze,
I find that I can’t stop crying.
Every tiny, gentle gesture, every knowing expression, every familiar tone, every knowing glance. Every laughed at memory, every iPhone photo recall. Every overheard minor chord change and lyrical turn of phrase.
These spark and ignite more salt water teardrops, bitter warm, running down my face. I sit in Waitrose carpark, waiting, as Nick Cave sings to me.
My shivers and shudders turn to common cold like symptoms.
My bow strains, my frown forges, as my consciousness, still, near 3 years on, strives to make some sick sense of this.
Later, in the evening, alone in our PJs, half way up the stairs, Trace and I hold each other.
And she says, ‘This is our life now.’
One thought on “This is Our Life Now (Christmas #3)”
Hi Dave, you don’t know me personally but I’m Nicola Cowen’s mum. I occasionally read your blog as it’s so poignant and I just can’t imagine how you have coped with your loss. I met Tracey years ago when Izzy was really young and they started coming up to Clough Fields. Nic and I often have a chat about Izzy and have done so again tonight. I mentioned to her that a colleague at work ‘s son goes out with Eve who is currently loaning Walt and we also had a chat about Nic’s friendship with Izzy. What a small world it is . I just have to say you both are never far from our thoughts and a picture of Izzy and Walt still adorns our fridge door as a constant reminder of the lovely girl she was. Nic was telling me that it’s the inquest next month and I hope you both find the strength to cope with what lies ahead. Most of us will never know the depth of grief you are going through, but hope the continued support from everyone helps. Kindest regards Andrea Reid