People will tell you that anniversaries are hard, as are the “firsts”—the first Christmas, the first concert, the first holiday. You can brace yourself for those. You know they’re coming.
Grief isn’t just in the big things, or the obvious. It hides in the very ordinary, the seemingly dreary moments of daily life.
For me, the hardest are the rainy Tuesdays and the sunny Thursdays. The mornings when my first thought, before I’ve even opened my eyes, is that this is forever—that life will never feel ordinary again.
This morning, grief was in the shower. The bottles of shampoo and conditioner are lasting longer. Watching the water run freely down the drain—never again to be blocked by her long hair—I cried.
There are traces of her everywhere. The little things that bring her presence sharply into the room. Passing her red coat hanging at the bottom of the stairs, I catch her scent. I close my eyes and see her face, hear her laugh.
The half-eaten McFlurry in the freezer because her eyes were bigger than her belly.
The carton of Candy’up chocolate milk and the saucisson in the fridge. The house is full of her. We keep her close with stories and memories, speaking her name with love, always. I’m grateful for the laughter. The memories allow me to feel her presence while bearing her absence. Nine months of missing her, and a lifetime ahead.
The door in the back hall, painted with bright red chalkboard paint, still holds her welcome-home messages, countdowns to Christmas, and birthday greetings. The vintage stock cube tin of chalk still sits on the windowsill, and her last message, though slowly fading, is still there. I will not rub it out.
I read it and feel her there—still present, still part of the rhythm of our lives.
It says, “See you in a bit.”
~
Lizzie Jones is a mother of seven living in rural France. She writes about family, memory, and grief, following the recent loss of her daughter, Hannah. She is also a stained and fused glass artist, capturing light, colour, and memory in her work, and is currently working on her first memoir.