Profound loss

I stopped writing my 400 word blogs because some of them became more than a little dark about how I was feeling. Then I ran out of content. But mainly they became very dark, which wasn’t helping me at all. Which sees me back again, writing about something horrible that didn’t happen to me, but feels way too close for comfort.

Laura killed herself about eight weeks ago. Her funeral was Thursday 5th September, and she would have been 44 on 16th September 2024. This was not long after Jimmy and Lynda decided to get married. They had decided to tie the knot after twenty-seven years together, only to find out that two women in their forties who attended the wedding reception had later both taken their lives within a day or two of each other.

This post is one I have been putting off for weeks, and have only just found the energy to face. And as I am doing so, wonder what the point of me typing away is. nothing, I expect. But I am in my small room, lights down, vinyl playing on the stereo, trying to focus.

I feel very fortunate to live where I live. The opportunities to be involved in sports, and music from the past few years have been priceless. And when I say priceless, probably very expensive, given the cost of keeping a roof over my head where I am. Having said that, I don’t think I’d change any of it, despite all of the pain and anguish it’s taken to get here, and the worry of wondering how I am going to keep housing and feeding myself in the next ten years and beyond.

Lockdown for me was probably much worse than I imagine. And if I remember, it was bloody awful. I may have written about it. A terrible time for me when I’m sure I was very ill, with no-one to see that I was, and not much was going on in my life before. Already a bit of a recluse, I really hid myself away, hoping I could disappear, disconnected from anyone who would miss me. That was the plan.

Over that last two years, I’ve met people, more people, and more people. This is something I resented, because I couldn’t just disappear – and I hope I don’t need to spell that out – from the World. And so, I’m still here, even with the burden of failure, depression, and shame I carry from my younger days. It’s no lie to say that it has been a very close thing that I’m still here.

Laura’s not here though. She was loved by her partner/boyfriend of thirteen years, Paul, and by everyone I knew who knew here. Then one Wednesday at work, I had the call that she was no longer with us.

Two weeks on from Laura’s funeral, I’m still processing. On the outside I’m fine. At least I hope so, but it is clear that I need my six days off from tomorrow that I’ve been aiming for. Bad habits, by which I mean excessive drinking, by my standards have crept in. Although, I managed ten days without alcohol recently, before I fell off the waggon.

Knowing how close I was to this is a shock. What’s worse is feeling that my chance has been taken. I can’t follow though now. My life is to keep on going and make the best of things. And I don’t want to make this about me, but I feel like I have to frame the whole picture.

Laura was a talented musician. What I see what happened is that she didn’t feel that she was a fit for this World, where a job and money is the most important thing in the world – unless you just have loads of money, in which case, you can act and do as you like.

We all have bad days. Those bad days normally turn in tomorrow. And then there are people, who aren’t going to make it, or just manage to avoid it. These people recognise it in other people who are in the same situation. This is a rare thing in my experience, but when it happens, both parties know.

I’m not sure if this happened with Laura and I, but it did with Paul, which makes me realise that he knew Laura’s struggles over the years. He knew, and he did his best to support the beautiful soul.

When you know more people, you open yourself up. I knew them as a couple for about two years. They were really great with me, but I feel like an outsider, wondering what I’m doing here, meeting their friends who they’ve known much longer and have had much better times than they have shared with me. And yet, here I am, in tears, typing away, with half a glass of red wine in my bottle.

Miss you, Laura Xx