I am sat on the beach in Cornwall, my eyes are shut, the sun is warm on my face, I can hear the boys having fun. I am happy. I can allow myself this bit of happiness, they are just memories, there will be no more happy days at the beach.
The waves are gently lapping onto the pebbles, it is a soft rythmical beat. It is the sound of Toby’s heart beating, it is the sound of my grief. When he first died it was like a hurricane out there, the worst storm in the middle of winter. As my heart slowly broke, my head became like shattered fragments. I remember people talking to me, do they know I was not listening? I was listening to Toby’s heart beating, trying to hear it through the mist. I still find it hard to listen, its not that I don’t care or I’m not interested, its just that my head is in another place. Sometimes it is on that beach enjoying the sun and I don’t want anything to break my moment of happiness. Most of the time though my head is full of such a jumble of feelings that I do not have the room for anything else. I have to force myself to concentrate on the here and now, that is such an enormous effort, it makes me so tired. Most of the time I make some effort but sometimes I just don’t want to. I don’t want to be strong or positive, I just want to feel.
The beach isn’t quiet so frantic now, the waves still lap to and fro, reminding me of what I have lost and will never find but also reminding me of Toby’s heart beat that goes on. The big waves still catch me out though, as much as you know they are going to come, it is never quite when you expect. When they do come I go back there to that night, the longest night, the night it all started.