These weeks are hard. It feels like arrows are coming from everywhere. Today outside the supermarket, an environment group of some kind approached me. "Are you a member?” she asked me pleasantly, as I tried to avoid her gaze. I shook my head, too disinterested to mumble the word, 'No'. She followed me aggressively as a mother would a naughty child, “Do you know who we are?" she demanded. "No. I just buried my father last week. I don't want to talk to anyone," I replied.
Maybe she wasn't aggressive, maybe it was me. But talking to strangers is hard, and I lack interest. I’m surprised I even made it to the supermarket.
I like to be honest with people, tell them what's going on. If people ask me how I’m going, I can’t just simply say ‘fine’, for their benefit. It’s not my style. I can’t pretend to be anything other than completely shit. I can't live in denial, even with strangers in the street. It helps me to talk about it. It makes the unreal, real.
At the moment I see my Dad everywhere: in the stars, an eagle, a beautiful sky or a sunset. It scares me. What if I stop seeing him? When someone dies, it feels like a part of you dies with them. Maybe it's not a death. Maybe you gave them a piece of your heart to take with.
Written on 10 Jun 2004
Over 7 years since incident
Tags:
Arrows, buried, Sandra's story
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ANN LEWIS | 30 Jan 2010
Hi Sandra, I didn’t actually write anything after I lost my Jane, but the feelings will never go away. Some of the things you felt, I felt too, and I feel sure we’re not the only ones.
Because I can relive the way I felt after Jane’s accident, I’m going to write about it too, because it’s still all their in my heart, and will be forever.
Big hug for you Sandra, for having the strength and courage to write about how you felt in order to help others. Your website is taking shape now and as you knew when you planned it all that time ago, proving that there is definitely a need. Thank you. Ann x