A Note to Self

She had finally come to a realisation that there was one person all along that she should have been more open and honest with. As she sat down with a pen in one hand and her newly purchased notebook resting on the side of the sofas arm, she took a deep breath. She sat silently staring at the notebook, as black as her life now seemed. She took one more sip of her wine and opening the cover she began to write.

To you, my dearest friend, myself, You are the only person who has stuck with me through thick and thin. The only person who has experienced both the highs and lows of life that have made you the person that you are now. I want to take this time to reminisce with you, to remind you how far you have come. How strong you are and to realise that although, at times we cannot always avoid the inevitable, we can learn from them. Just like we should accept and forgive not only our own wrong decisions but those of our loved ones.

She paused for a moment as her mind overwhelmed her with images of faces, moments of the past. Constantly flickering like a thousand televisions screens all in her head. As chaotic as they were each vision was like a moment in time that had been etched within her. Vivid in the ways it made her feel as though she was reliving it exactly how she remembered, the smells, the tastes. Whatever she associated with each flicker was as real as the first time she had experienced it.

She took another sip from her glass. She had a sudden feeling of sadness sweep over her. Realising that some of her memories had somehow been rewritten inside her mind. As if parts of them were missing or mixed up somehow. At times the more she tried to remember the truth she would picture a different location or picture being much older than she had been when a particular incident had occurred. A never ending battle that made her days seem endless and her nights full of dread. But somehow she was still breathing, still able to eat, shower, do the dishes. She could still be there for her loved ones, even the black sheep still needs to be amongst its herd.

The pen began to move along the line….. Do you remember that morning you got up just like any other morning and attempted to put on your jeans? Confused as to why they would not button up. Knowing that you had not changed anything, not eaten any more than usual. And then the warmest smile beaming across your face with the thought of maybe being pregnant. I will never forget how happy you were and how your mindset drastically changed the moment the at home pregnancy test confirmed what you had secretly hoped it would. In the prime of your youth you knew that it would be your motherly duty to be home from now on, you wanted nothing more than to be there to watch your baby grow. The first words, first steps. You didn’t want to miss a thing. Life seemed so simple then. You seemed to have it all. A supportive, loving and secure partner who was just as overjoyed as you were at the thought of becoming a parent. A man who had worked hard and was able to provide his new family with all the necessities and requirements that the mother of his child and his child itself would need. The bread winner as the saying was once described. Or as most men would better describe as ‘life’s purpose.’

She thought about those moments. It occurred to her strongly just how simple it really had felt back then. Everything had fallen into place. Even her family seemed more connected and free. So many new occurrences that they had all experienced together. Beautiful memories began to comfort her as she pulled a blanket across her lap and closed her eyes. She could see her children opening up Christmas presents with eagerness, surrounded by loved ones. She could still hear them laughing, still hear their tiny kiddy like voices. And BOOM in a mind thundering instance, ripping through those peaceful thoughts, she was once again haunted by her hardest screen of all. The one that ultimately changed her life and who she was at that time. The image that crosses her mind numerous times a day, wakes her up at night and continues to feel her with complete and utter sadness. Her brothers face. With each memory of him there are an abundance, a bombardment in full force of all the questions that the tiny voice inside her head will start to ask. Why? Why was the car door ajar? Why would he do this to me? To mum? To dad? To his siblings? His nan? Why didn’t she know? Why didn’t she go down stairs and stop him? And with all these questions it always ends with a continual Why? Why? Why?

She sits upright caught in a blubbering mess of tears and sobs. Her brother, her oldest brother, her only older brother and as she was now the oldest sibling always felt that she could never quite fill his shoes. She took her notebook in her hand and turned to a new page. And began to write now another letter……..

My dear brother,

When you first took your life I couldn’t bare the pain. I couldn’t talk about you, I couldn’t hang photos of you, I struggled to breathe. I couldn’t be the mother I needed to be. I had dreams about you where I was with you again and in those dreams I was so relieved that I was trying to tell you how bad everything had become and what everyone was dealing with. I was desperately trying to tell you that, thank god you are here again and my god please don’t ever do that again, complete relief, peace yet feeling overwhelmed as if being rushed. Then I wake up. Back to the empty unbearable pain that still inflicts my reality. In one dream you came to me and told me to meet you there every night. I have never been able to get to that meeting point. No matter where I am in my dream I suddenly realise, yes I know where to go, but I can never get there. Please know that I do not blame you for anything. Nan looked me in the eyes and said

“He’s not a coward darling, he is a very brave man to have done what he did”

I never quite understood it. I’ve been stuck in dysfunctional prolonged grief for so long I have never really dealt with things. But I hear her now. Even though she is now with you I finally understand what she was wanting me to believe. You went through hell. For so long. I knew about your struggles before you went to war. It’s hard to picture you in Afghanistan at twenty years old because I now realise you were just a kid, so young. Yet I always seen you as my protector, my big strong brother who could conquer all. It haunts me thinking about all our moments as kids, as teenagers as adults. Our talks. Seeing you slowly slipping away was more than I could comprehend. I’m so sorry. I love you more than life itself. I’m sorry I have let your death affect me so much that it has affected my children, your nephew and nieces. I’m so sorry that I wasn’t as strong and as brave as you were. I was twenty four back then I’m now thirty eight and it has had a hold on me, controlled me, so much in fact that I now find myself thinking….

“Where has my life gone?”

Brother, you are the strongest person I have ever known. I followed you everywhere, I even tried to follow you since you left me. I now need to be strong like you. My children have suffered enough , they deserve to see me happy, coping and at peace. I will never stop picturing you walking through the door. I have always done that and many times you truly did come walking through the door with that smile that still makes me smile. I miss you. I will finally let the past go.

And with those final words she began switching off so many of the flickering screens that had overwhelmed her all this time. And realised that maybe she could be truly stronger. She turned back the page and in her newly founded realisation she wrote to herself…

You are the only person who truly knows you and knows what you have been through. It’s not going to be easy, but you are truly the strongest person I now know.