It’s difficult to imagine it’s four years since Diane left. It never seems to get any easier to deal with her not being here. Maybe it never
will.
The anniversary of her passing every February 6 will always be difficult. It
still feels so cruel on her. She did not deserve to suffer the way she did in
those final weeks. No-one deserves that. In those final days, she knew her
light was dying, that the flame was flickering now and would soon dim and go
out. Luckily she slept much as the end drew near, hopefully dreaming of being
well, of being happy.
Who knows what we dream about in that moment when we are
caught between life and death. I hope she is still dreaming now, four years on and forever more.
The emptiness I feel because she is no longer
here beside me is just a part of it. Add to that all the guilt – the belief
that I could have done more, could have cared more and done more when she was there beside me,
that is another part of it. Then there's the thought that I should have been able
to fix her. That's what I was there for and I was helpless, hopeless, unable to stop it taking her from me. Finally, there’s the sorrow I feel imagining the pain she must have
suffered.
Every February 6 all these emotions start swirling around
with an extra intensity, forming an emotional maelstrom that leaves the brain
in a mush for a couple of days. Most other days, the waters are calmer and while the
same emotions exist at all times, they only come together in that kind of 'perfect
storm' on notable days and anniversaries.
But it’s OK. That’s the way it is and that’s probably the
way it will always be. In a way, I hope it is. I want these emotionally-charged days when everything I feel and have ever felt for Diane comes together in a
moment of shared intensity. It proves she is still alive in my heart and soul. It proves we'll stay together, forever.
