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288 pages, Paperback
Published July 3, 2024
It is like being at a party where the guest has forgotten to arrive. Everyone is waiting for you. And you are nowhere and everywhere. In all the conversations. In all the memories. But gone too.
The process of dying isn't for the patient, it's for those caring for them. I wasn't ready for Mum to die. I needed it to take time. Over those weeks, I needed to process how I was going to feel... It was only after watching her suffer that I was fully ready for her to go.... It shocked me to realise how willing I was to compromise her quality of life just so she could stick around for a bit longer.
I like imagining that what I remember about Aidan is real and true. I want to hold on to those memories, return to them at will and argue for their existence. But I also understand that my version of events is not the only one and that if I asked my children about their memories... theirs would be different from mine.
Nowhere are memories more desperately hunted for than when someone dies. A time when grief makes even the smallest thought often impossible and when we are bumbling through guilt and hurt and longing. Surely during such heightened emotion, memories have no chance at being accurate?
He introduced the kids to the delight of stopping off on a road trip for a beef pie and sauce at a country bakery... I find myself stopping so the kids can buy their pies and remember their dad. We hunt Aidan out where we can, but find him in different ways.
