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Because it is wonderful. Truly, there’s nothing better than being with old friends. You just pick up where you left off, as if you were in the middle of a conversation. Except we’ve not seen each other since last summer and there’s lots to catch up on. New houses, new promotions, new babies.
I lie here for a few moments, willing it to go away. I’d hoped that by moving back to London I could leave it behind, with no forwarding address. But now it’s found me and it’s not giving up without a fight. But neither am I. Summoning my courage, I throw back my duvet. Because if there’s one thing I do know, it’s that you must never give in to a bully. And The Fear is the very worst kind.
I hang back, not wanting to intrude, pretending to be interested in a book about engineering. A young guy with headphones and a laptop sits down at Monty’s desk, oblivious to the widow watching him from across the room. Life moves on. It has to. And yet . . . And yet how can the world keep on turning, business as usual, without them in it? As time moves on, the further away you become from the last moment you saw them. They retreat into your past as you travel into the future. The distance between you growing as their voice fades and the memories blur.
‘Nature teaches you to have patience and faith. Life’s just a cycle, you know. Things might seem dead, but they always come back to life . . .’
‘Remember that, love. When life buries us under all its heartache and disappointment, think about a seed. It needs to be buried in order for it to grow. That’s how the magic happens. But you have to have faith. Remember that. Patience and faith.’
Because feeling like a fuck-up isn’t about being a failure, it’s about being made to feel like one. It’s the pressure and the panic to tick all the boxes and reach all the goals . . . and what happens when you don’t. When you find yourself on the outside. Because on some level, in some aspect of your life, it’s so easy to feel like you’re failing when everyone around you appears to be succeeding.’
I’ve found friends and acquaintances keep their distance because they don’t want to upset you or say the wrong thing. What they don’t realize is you’re already upset beyond anything they could ever say or do. It’s their silence that upsets you. You feel isolated. Abandoned.’
If getting older has taught me one thing, it’s that I feel so many conflicting things about so many different things, and to negate or stifle any of them doesn’t make them go away. Emotions don’t necessarily have a moral compass. Feelings can’t be shamed into disappearing. Suppressing and ignoring them will only make them come back to bite you in the therapist’s chair.
but having witnessed Cricket’s heartbreak, there seems to be little comfort to be gained when someone you love dies. It’s just a case of necessity. Of getting on with it. Of putting one foot in front of the other, and breathing in and out.
‘But you love that house.’ ‘I do, yes, but it holds so many memories of Monty.’ ‘Isn’t that good?’ I reason. ‘In many ways, yes, it can be of great comfort . . .’ She pauses, then gestures around her. ‘But life isn’t a museum, Nell. I don’t want to live in the past.’
‘Yes,’ I nod, my mind scrambling backwards over the past week and realizing that this isn’t about him being too busy with coaching to arrange another date, and it’s not weird or odd that he’s been reading my texts but hasn’t got in touch; it’s deliberate. I suddenly feel like a total fool.
Can’t we just be allowed to feel a bit bleugh sometimes without this constant pressure? Max certainly isn’t happy right now. Cricket wasn’t feeling joyful when she cleared out Monty’s clothes. And bliss to me right now would be something to take away this awful PMS, and crawling back underneath my duvet. Sometimes life is crap, and wrapping it up in an inspirational quote isn’t always going to make you feel better. On the contrary, sometimes it just makes everything feel worse.
We’re encouraged to be our true, authentic selves, but being told to feel happy when you’re just not feeling it, only encourages us to be the exact opposite. Life can be wonderful but it can also be scary and hard. We should be free to feel sad or gloomy or just downright bloody miserable, without feeling like there’s something wrong with us Because sometimes happiness isn’t a choice. Sometimes, no matter how hard you try, you can’t find joy. Which is why I’ve decided to stop beating myself up by desperately seeking happiness and give myself the permission to feel exactly how I feel, when I
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‘Word by word, page by page,’ Cricket tells her cheerfully, ‘that’s how a writer writes and how a reader should read. You’ll get there in the end. Doesn’t matter if it takes six months or a year or longer to finish it. That’s what I always used to tell my husband.’
‘I’m not saying this to be trite or to make you feel better, but believe me when I say this: the people who matter will see you, no matter what.’
‘You know, it never looks like you want it to, your hair’s never perfect and it’ll probably rain, but it doesn’t matter. Those are your good old days. It’s those times you always remember
‘Sometimes I wonder if maybe it was for the best. I tried and I failed. Maybe deep down I didn’t want it enough. Like you said, not everyone does.’ ‘True.’ Eventually she says something. ‘But is that really you talking? Or is it your grief?’ ‘I don’t know.’ I shake my head. ‘And that’s OK,’ she says quietly. I raise my eyes to meet Cricket’s. ‘I’m eighty-one years old and I’ve learned if there’s one gift you can give yourself in life, it’s the freedom and courage to say “I don’t know”. Because I’ll let you into a secret – you don’t have to know. You don’t have to know how you feel, or what you
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and I can’t help thinking how so often we resist what our emotions are trying to tell us, because of some stupid belief that we shouldn’t feel a certain way.
‘But I’m finding it hard in a different way now. Not just because I miss Monty, but because my life is growing while his has ended.’
‘The way I see it, you can grieve for someone and the past, but you’ve also got to live,’ I continue firmly.
Maybe this is what happens when you get to this middle stage of life. You don’t just have one job any more; you have lots of different things. Some make money, some don’t, but all together they make up a life fulfilled.
Turning away from the doorway, I rest wearily against the wall. I think about Dad. How since the day I was born, he’s been the one man in my life who’s always been there for me, never letting me down, loving me unconditionally, even during those teenage years of rows and shouting and slamming of doors. Boyfriends have come and gone. Fiancés too. But not Dad. He’s always been protecting me, even from afar. Nothing bad could ever happen to me while he was alive, because he’s the net into which I can always fall. A world without him is unfathomable.
And in that moment, I know I will love him forever for doing that. Not love in the romantic sense, but love in the true, deep sense of the word. Without even being asked, he’s driven through the night to be here for me. So I can lean on him when I need to lean on someone the most in my life. In the most desperate of times. When I thought I was alone. He was here. Waiting for me. And if that’s not real love, I don’t know what is.
But this is what we do when we’re grown-ups, isn’t it? We sidestep and skirt around and keep our feelings in check. We’re not hormonal teenagers at the mercy of our emotions (though, in my case, the hormones are still doing a number on me). We’re old enough now to know how to conduct ourselves, not to say everything we’re thinking, and that no good will come of that third Martini.
‘So how did you get the idea?’ the twenty-something features writer cheerfully asked me earlier. ‘I think it was the moment I found myself broke, single and forty-something, and sleeping in my old bedroom back at my parents’,’ I replied, and watched as her face visibly paled. Because that’s the thing: I think that’s still a frightening prospect for most people. Or versions of it. But actually, I’m here to tell you it’s not really. Because it’s not the end. On the contrary, it might just be the beginning.
Because if what started out as me just trying to be truthful and tell it like it is has struck a chord with other people feeling just as flawed and confused as I do – and if in some small way it’s helped by showing them they’re not alone; that I’m here and I hear them – then that’s the biggest bonus of all.
She sniffs hard, rubbing her cheek, and it’s so difficult not to try and offer up some well-meaning words of comfort, but I don’t want to offend her by trying. Because nothing is going to give her comfort and nothing is going to make it better, and I’m not going to insult her by pretending otherwise. ‘It fucking sucks,’ I say. Because that’s the truth. Because she needs her grief to be acknowledged. And because as a friend that’s all I can hope to do. ‘It fucking sucks,’ she nods.
‘It’s true what they say: life does go on and joy does return, and often it’s in the most unexpected of places,’ she continues, ‘but you never get over losing someone; you just get better at coping with it.’
Some things can’t always be untangled. Don’t worry too much about people liking you; liking yourself is far more important. You can never have too many hats. Drink that bottle of red. Friendship is family. Rubber gloves and determination can solve anything.* You will regret those heavy earrings. You never really know what you’re doing, so do it anyway.
No one ever died of cellulite or wrinkles. You never own a book; you just get to look after it until you pass it on to the next person. The same story is different for everyone.
There is no age limit on adventure. You’re not too old, it’s not too late, and yes you can.
It’s a rare thing to find a comfortable silence with someone, and it makes me think about Dad. I called him earlier to wish him and Mum a Happy New Year. There was a moment when I feared I might never be able to do that again. That night when I broke down outside the hospital chapel, I thought I was going to lose him. I’ll never forget it. I was in such a dark place, but it was as if the lights finally came on. And they shone so brightly on what was important in life. Real, true love, where you’d do anything for that person. Where you never, ever want to let them go. That’s it. None of the
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People always talk about happy endings, but I think it should be happy beginnings. Who wants to talk about endings when ahead is a brand new year, stretching out before you. One filled with infinite possibilities and wonderful new opportunities and decisions to be made and doubts to be had and a whole lot of love to be explored.
teasingly call me the Domestic Goddess. My little flat, in which I intend to squash all my friends for a housewarming when I finally get the keys, where they will
This feeling of strength and calm that comes from realizing you’re never really going to know what the hell you’re doing but it’s never too late to start over. Because it’s only when you are ready to surrender the life you thought you were going to live that you finally get the life you were always meant to live.
