I journal every day. I have been talking to him through my writing and in my head. I speak to him through the pictures I have around the house. I watch videos of him, yet, it’s barely been a year and I feel like he is slipping away from me already.
But at the same time, he isn’t. I guess this is part of the grief journey as well. The fear of forgetting.
I look back on our happy times, on the times when I used to drive down to Portugal for a few days. When you used to drive up to me and send me a text message saying, “40k”. I would be so nervous, so excited, so dying to see you! But that seems so far away, it is behind the entangled mesh of the horror of the last two years. I really have to fight through it to remember all the happiness, the joy, the fun times we had together.
I guess it’s the trauma, right? It’s witnessing how your soulmate is disappearing and disintegrating right before your very eyes and there isn’t a damn thing you can do about it. There were no medicines to cure you, there was no rehabilitation to make you walk again. There was no secret potion to bring your memory back.
I know you loved me because with all the haze, you never forgot me. That very last Wednesday, when I arrived that was the first thing you said, “Carmen, where have you been?” I will never forget those words. I told you I had been at work. That was the last time you spoke to me.
You were such a romantic. You said the loveliest, cheesiest things. The first time you said, “I love you more than yesterday, but less than tomorrow…”, I giggled. I thought you were joking, but you weren’t, you really meant it!
I miss my friend. I miss my lover. I miss confidant.
I wonder whether there really is an after life and whether you are waiting for me in heaven or in another dimension. It doesn’t really matter. I just hate the thought that I will never see you again or hold your hand or kiss your face or hug you.
I hate the fact that you can’t tickle me or give me that little slap on the butt when you came into the kitchen to catch a coffee or help with lunch.
I remember 12 on Sundays because it was time to call Dave. I remember 12 every day because it was “beer time”. I remember you surprising me with flowers. I remember all the times I used to call you from class to ask you a silly question. The students got such a kick out of that. You were always there for me. I finished my blasted PhD dissertation because you pushed and pushed and pushed and even helped with the bibliography and cross-referencing despite the fact that it was in Spanish!
I know many people discredit St. Valentine’s Day, they say it’s commercial, they say one can and should show love, respect, appreciation every day and any day. You were like that; you shared all that and so much more with me. For me, it’s always been a special day, not just romantic love, but also about familial love, friendship love and a day to just be mindful and tell the people you love that you remembered them because we’re always in such a rush that we just might forget and when we want to, it may be too late. So, like every year since we met, this is my St. Valentine’s Day card to you in heaven my love. Forever and for always and a day!
Escribo en mi diario todos los días. He estado hablando con él a través de mis escritos y en mi cabeza. Le hablo a través de las fotos que tengo alrededor de la casa. Veo videos de él, y sin embargo, apenas ha pasado un año y siento que ya se me está escapando.
Pero al mismo tiempo, no es así. Supongo que esto también es parte del viaje del duelo. El miedo a olvidar.
Recuerdo nuestros tiempos felices, cuando yo me iba hasta Portugal a pasar unos días. Cuando tu venías hasta mí y me enviabas un mensaje de texto diciendo, “40k”. Estaba tan nerviosa, tan emocionada, ¡tan ansiosa por verte! Pero eso parece tan lejano, está detrás de la maraña del horror de los últimos dos años. Realmente tengo que luchar para recordar toda la felicidad, la alegría, los buenos momentos que pasamos juntos.
Supongo que es el trauma, ¿verdad? El trauma de presenciar cómo tu alma gemela desaparece y se desintegra ante tus propios ojos y no hay nada que puedas hacer al respecto. No había medicinas para curarte, no había rehabilitación para hacerte caminar de nuevo. No había poción secreta para devolver tu memoria.
Sé que me amabas porque, con toda la confusión, nunca me olvidaste. Ese último miércoles, cuando llegué, fue lo primero que dijiste, “Carmen, ¿dónde has estado?” Nunca olvidaré esas palabras. Te dije que había estado trabajando. Esa fue la última vez que me hablaste.
Eras tan romántico. Decías las cosas más lindas y cursis. La primera vez que dijiste, “Te amo más que ayer, pero menos que mañana…”, me reí. Pensé que estabas bromeando, pero no era así, ¡realmente lo decías en serio!
Extraño a mi amigo. Extraño a mi amante. Extraño a mi confidente.
Me pregunto si realmente hay una vida después de la muerte y si me estás esperando en el cielo o en otra dimensión. Realmente no importa. Solo odio la idea de que nunca te volveré a ver o a coger tu mano o a besar tu cara o a abrazarte.
Odio el hecho de que no puedas hacerme cosquillas o darme esa pequeña palmada en el trasero cuando venías a la cocina a tomar un café o ayudar con el almuerzo.
Recuerdo las 12 los domingos porque era hora de llamar a Dave. Recuerdo las 12 todos los días porque era “hora de la cerveza”. Recuerdo que me sorprendías con flores. Recuerdo todas las veces que te llamaba desde clase para hacerte una pregunta tonta. Mi alumnado se divertía mucho con eso. Siempre estuviste ahí para mí. Terminé mi doctorado porque me empujaste y empujaste y empujaste e incluso ayudaste con la bibliografía y las referencias cruzadas, ¡a pesar de que estaba en español!
Sé que muchas personas desacreditan el Día de San Valentín, dicen que es comercial, dicen que uno puede y debe mostrar amor, respeto, aprecio todos los días y cualquier día. Tu eras así, compartiste eso y muchísimo más conmigo. Para mí, siempre ha sido un día especial, no solo amor romántico, amor familiar, amor de amistad, sino también un día para simplemente ser consciente y decirles a las personas que amas que las recuerdas porque siempre vivimos tan deprisa que podríamos olvidarlo y cuando queramos acordarnos, puede que sea demasiado tarde. Así que, como todos los años, esta es mi tarjeta del Día de San Valentín para ti en el cielo, mi amor. ¡Para siempre, eternamente y un día!
About Carmen Medina
Carmen is a 66-year-old widow who is living in Spain. She was born in Vancouver, B.C., Canada to Spanish parents. Since 2019 she has been living in Antequera in the south of Spain. She was married to Barrie Eggington, her soul mate and love of her life till he passed away on December 23rd, 2023, after a long battle with lung cancer.
Thanks to Hope for Widows, which she found online just a few weeks after his passing, Carmen found a group who not only understood what she was going through when few others did, but also solace in her sisters in grief, a place where she could express her feelings and find the resonance she needed.
Carmen has been an English teacher and teacher trainer for over 30 years in Europe, the Middle East and North America. She still teaches English and is the principal at the government funded language school where she is currently working. She spends her time with her daughter and grandchildren. She goes to the gym every day, loves the beach, particularly Torremolinos where she reminisces about the time she spent there with her late husband.