I found something out the other day. I was upset. Missing you dreadfully. I was feeling quite desperate about the fact it felt like I wasn’t talking about you, not really. I want to talk about you. I miss talking about you. When I voiced this I was told that other people want to talk about you too but they’re too frightened of upsetting me. I’m too frightened of upsetting other people. So I don’t always talk to them about you.
I was told that maybe I needed to give permission, for others to talk about you. Problem is
I don’t want to pressurise people into that. What if they don’t want to? That’s ok too. So how to get around this. Well, this is me saying, I want to talk about you. I might get upset, I might laugh, I might cry. That’s ok too.
At your cousins 6th birthday party we all felt it but nobody said it. We missed you. In the group picture of us all, there was a 14yr old smiling girl not sitting by her mum, her cousins and brothers. Yet nobody said anything. We are all so scared of upsetting each other. Apparently your cousin had gone through the list of who was coming to his party and at the end said, ‘no Tesni at my party?’. Your little two year old brother kept pointing at your picture on my phone saying ‘Tetni, Tetni’. That’s because they don’t live in a world where they’re worried of saying the wrong thing.
My brother told me about his sons comment about you Tes. Not coming to his party. I think he was surprised when I said, it was nice to hear that. Not that he might have felt upset or because he was sad that you weren’t coming. Just that he noticed and he verbalised it, that you weren’t there. That you weren’t coming.
Of course I know that people notice, I know people are still grieving. I know we all do that differently. But when someone so vitally important has gone, I don’t want to forget. I want to talk and remember you and refer to you and say I miss you.
I want to hear Nanna talk about the fact she thought you’d go to Cambridge as she told me the other day, I want to hear your brother talk about the teacher in school that taught you both. I want to talk about what food you liked and how sometimes you were grumpy and untidy. I want to talk about your friends and know what they’re doing over the half term. I want to talk about your last Christmas and your last birthday. I want to say Tes liked this band if they come on the radio or to say someone on the TV reminds me of you. I want to say I miss you, I miss you, I miss you and I wish you were still here. I want to talk about you.
The point is.
I’d rather talk about you and cry, than not talk about you at all.
Miss you my baby girl.