I Swear You Will Be Fine

Just when I think I’ve gotten past one of the stages of grief, it somehow stumbles back in.

Denial is probably the stage I have most trouble with. From almost the moment it all happened, I play the scene over and over in my mind. And the next time it is different.

You were irritable when I got home that afternoon. We managed to book the hotel together and you were pleasant enough. But then you asked Tun to clear up something on your table. I was annoyed that you were asking her to do it and you said it would just take a minute. Next time, maybe I wouldn’t be annoyed and this wouldn’t be the outcome.

When I was watching TV in my room later, you came in to use the bathroom. You had snapped a little earlier. So I hardly tried to talk to you. Next time, I would try to talk to you, and maybe this wouldn’t have happened.

When I was getting ready for dinner, I showed you the dress I was wearing and asked you what you thought. You shrugged and said I looked a bit frumpy. So I changed. You were just taking the dogs down and said “Bye, Drive Safe, Love you”, just as you walked out the door. It was a little louder and brighter. I took it as your mood had lifted. But maybe you knew this was the last time. Next time, I would know too.

As I left home to go for dinner, it was raining. When I got into the car in the underground car park, I looked around for you, knowing you were walking the dogs there and would be returning soon. But I told myself not to be so anxious all the time and to let go a little. So I didn’t wait for you and drove off. Next time, I would wait for you, and maybe I would see your mood had dipped and I wouldn’t have left you.

Next time, I would stay at home.

Next time, I would call you again, maybe one hour after I called you at 7.30.

Next time, you would call me and tell me you’re not feeling great.

Next time, you would call Shalini and tell her you’re not doing well.

Next time, I would come home just 30 minutes earlier…..that may have just been enough….

But we all know there is no next time. This was it. And it is so hard to accept. Almost every time I walk into your room, I replay the first few seconds of the tragedy that night. It is weird how the mind works. It’s like we think we can control anything and everything. And next time, we will do it better and control the situation. But I also know (almost) for sure, that if it was not this time, it would have been the next time for you.

Love you darling,

Mum