So, a year later since we lost George. One day I was speaking to him on his phone, talking about the Freshers Ball at Harper and all the excitement and fun that night had been, then the next day he is gone. How do you adjust to that?
He was still down in my ‘recent call list’ on my mobile phone. I couldn’t take it in – I found myself phoning his mobile knowing the police couldn’t find it and I left him a voicemail saying please don’t let it be true and please come home. Irrational behaviour, yes but the requests and things we did in that period are beyond a mum’s comprehension. What clothes to dress him for the coffin, going through and talking about tunes with Lucinda for the music in the church at the funeral – Christ Almighty, nightmare after another nightmare just queued up. My brain was in shut down and then, overload.
The day they closed the coffin lid for the last time I wrote him a 21st birthday card. That was important to me at the time. I wrote and I wrote about my feelings and how proud we had been of him. It killed me to use the past tense. I cut off a bit of Kian’s (our shared horse and trusted eventer) tail and placed them both on his tummy. Godspeed my wee boy.
So now I am writing again a year on and it is so acute and painful. I am told that 1st anniversaries are but this year has been littered with painful moments/ dates. His 21st birthday – hellish – I had to be at the graveside at 8.05pm, the time when I had brought him into this world on 12th July 1998. The sending Lu off to Cirencester, would they take care of her, she’s all we have left. Just lots of pain. I have smothered my wee dog Otto with cuddles and hugs and sought distraction in so many forms. Friends have done a great job.
The last day George walked this earth, 6th October, found Cameron and I at the White Cliffs and Beachy Head, Sussex. Stunning scenery and weather but sadly, famous for suicides, so tragic. What a waste of lives, how tortured these souls must be. But for Cameron and I, it was good. With our good pal, Charlotte Marshall who opened her home to allow us to escape and for this weekend. That’s what it has been, an escape from the horror of 7th October 2018.
Tears have flowed and there has been much mental thought of timelines of what was unfolding on that date/time a year ago. But I woke up early and running I went. George sent me a pink sky yesterday, beautiful for 10 minutes, like his favourite shirt that he wore in the coffin as the lid was closed.
So my boy, we will turn and face our second year that I can’t get you to answer your phone or return my calls.
Thank you for my pink sky