Little Wing
I sat next to her bed and held her hot, dry hand as I watched her chest gently rise and fall. I told her that I loved her and promised to have a Malibu and coke for her and kissed her forhead as I left, was it my imagination or did I feel her squeeze my hand ever so slightly, my confidante and comfort, even at the end. She held on until all of her friends had visited.

I sent her mother a card. Inside it read:

Dear L,

Firstly, I just want to how sorry I am that J lost the battle she’d been fighting for so long. She really did put up one hell of a fight. Not only that, she did it with dignity and humour. I’ll miss J very much – as you know she was one of my oldest and best friends, I always admired her enthusiasm for life, her complete openness and fact that she never judged anyone. Not to mention her perfect comic timing and hilarious one liners!

I feel truly blessed to have had J’s friendship she was a courageous, sparkly girl and I know it’s said you should never meet your heroes because they only disappoint, but J never disappointed. Anyway, I just wanted you to know how special I think she is.

GOTW

I couldn’t quite grasp that she’d gone. My thoughts were circular and all of that unrealised potential broke my heart. I can’t believe it. I can’t. It doesn’t make sense. I can’t believe it. She was my best friend, I was going to be her bridesmaid, godmother to her future children, the old bat she went to bingo with. Injustice mingled with relief that it was over.

J’s Mum asked me to read my note at the funeral and on the day, I sat with her other best friend P and eyes fixed on the coffin, I couldn’t believe she was in there. A brief moment of hysteria when P and his fog horn voice came in too early on the verse of a hymn, flatly echoing around the church. We both made our way up to the lectern and I numbly gripped P’s hand as he sobbed.

As we stepped down, her favourite song started to play, Angels by Robbie Williams (overrated, but I still can’t listen to it). I feel this sharp lump of grief forcing its way out, my shoulders heave with the effort of holding it together, I hiccup sobs and my face crumples as tears pour out. Now I understand and the realisation of my own mortality weighs heavily.

It took me a very long time to get over it. One night I woke up sure that someone was in my room. In the darkness, I could smell cigarettes and her perfume, strangely comforted and a little weirded out, I eventually fell back to sleep and when I woke up the next morning everything felt a little better than the days before. I didn’t go for grief counselling but I wish I had. I would advise other people to take it if available, even if you don’t think you’ll need it.
(GirlOfTheWorld, Mon 15 Apr 2013, 13:57, 6 replies)

I can't listen to Angels by Robbie Williams either.
Mainly because it's fucking gash.
( Monty Boyce, My cheese game is strong, Mon 15 Apr 2013, 13:59, closed)

Ha ha
Yes it is. I had a weird moment where I was thinking 'what a rubbish song' and then started crying but also tutting in my head.
(GirlOfTheWorld, Mon 15 Apr 2013, 14:02, closed)

Have a click.

( The Lone Groover has mal des nuts., Mon 15 Apr 2013, 15:07, closed)

And another.

( edjogs Collared doves are shit., Mon 15 Apr 2013, 15:14, closed)

COMEDY GOLD

( BraynDedd Natasha Kaplinsky's labia majora, Tue 16 Apr 2013, 9:31, closed)

Oh man, not ANOTHER Star Wars story.

( stuj (^(^;;^)^) GO TEAM SPIDERS!(^(^;;^)^), Wed 17 Apr 2013, 11:38, closed)