The things we remember

It feels odd to be writing about this. I haven’t even started writing, and already it feels very odd. Like I’m trespassing somewhere that isn’t mine.

Ten years is a long time. Ten years ago this evening, I was sitting in my living room watching Buffy when the phone rang. It was Friday, I was alone in the house. I remember where I was sitting, in the armchair next to the window. Sitting sideways over the arms of the chair to face the screen. I remember answering the phone. I don’t remember who it was, but I do know that she asked me if I was sitting down before she’d tell me what had happened.

I remember the shock, the disbelief. The total lack of any real emotion for the next few minutes. I remember making some phonecalls to pass on the news. I remember that I only really broke down after that. I remember my parents getting home, my friends coming over. Deciding to drive to Dublin the next morning. Not knowing what I was supposed to do, but needing to be near to everyone else who had known him.

I remember the next week- all of us sleeping on floors, on couches. Needing to be close to each other. Veering wildly between giddy and bereft. I remember it snowing outside a church.

I remember going home. The strangeness of spending my days in places where nothing had changed, knowing that everything had changed forever. I remember the next couple of years as we struggled to deal with knowing that there was nothing we could trust in utterly, that nobody was entirely safe. I remember..

I remember all of that.

I wish that remembering all of that didn’t make it so fucking hard to remember you.


p.s. pluggity plug plug.

2 thoughts on “The things we remember

  1. I’m sorry for your loss. The first time we lose someone our age is so difficult. When it happened to me, the girl I lost and I didn’t have any friends in common, didn’t live close by and hadn’t spoken in a wjile, so I wasn’t part of the community of loss. Instead I Googled her charity a lot, looked at old photos and played bizarre games where I figured out how many days it would be until I had lived as long as she did.

    This was beautifully written. Thanks for sharing it.

  2. Pingback: Repost: the things we remember. | Consider the Tea Cosy

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