You know when you buy a car and then it seems on the road everyone drives the same model as you. Without wanting to minimise the sheer trauma of grief sometimes it feels like that. Every book I read. Every film I dare to watch. Any TV drams. There it is. Every newspaper. Someone’s dies. And your heart squishes into a big knot which slowly untangles and you can imagine but you also can’t imagine their pain.
Anyway I’m on holiday so I decide to treat myself to an afternoon lazy film and hey presto there’s death appearing, it’s real and still. In this film though the male British star has a special power. He can time travel. By the end of the film he relives each day because he goes back and makes it better.
He notices the smile of the shopkeeper. He makes his friend laugh when he’s low. He takes time to just be. He’s thankful and grateful. He’s kind.
I couldn’t help wish I could time travel. I actually almost stood in a dark cupboard as he did to clench his fists to see if it would work. I almost did. I so wanted to believe it was possible just for a minute to go back to that morning. The last time I saw you. I know my last touch was to kiss you goodbye and say I love you but I’d have held on to you longer. Just for even a second.
There’s no time travel. And that’s the point. Make every day count. We’re human and imperfect but where we can make it count.. ..dont rely on the ability to go back and try again.
Miss you baby girl. Mum x