OM-THE-GO
“Trusty! Is that a hangover you’re nursing?” Jeremy’s voice boomed into her office.
Catherine winced and lifted her head from her hands.
Jeremy grimaced. “Christ, you look a fright.”
“I’m fine,” she croaked. “What do you want, Jer?”
“Er, I was just going to ask whether you’d mind popping another blog up soon. We’d been going great guns, but traffic has really dipped these past couple of weeks. Colin suggested it might be because—”
Catherine scrubbed her hands over her face. “Sorry, I haven’t been in the mood lately.” Her voice cracked, and she swallowed. “I’ll try to post something later.”
After Betty’s kind-but-creepy words, Catherine had decided to leave it a while before posting another blog.
She’d only meant to dip her toe in those waters, but she’d waded too far out of her comfort zone.
After the last message, Betty hadn’t sent any follow-ups, which was fine because surely meeting an internet stranger would be ill-advised, regardless of how tantalising the conversation was.
The online flirtations with Betty had, however, piqued Catherine’s interest in dating again.
She’d even mentioned it to Bridie, who’d clucked out kind words of encouragement.
Jeremy’s face crumpled with concern. “You really don’t look so good. Are you unwell?” He stepped closer and squeezed her shoulder.
“My neighbour died,” she blurted, as if the weight of his hot palm had lanced out the words. “We were friends.” Catherine swallowed around the lump in her throat. “And now she’s gone, and I feel so…”
“God, Trusty. I’m so sorry. That’s awful. Do you want to talk it through properly? I’ll ask Alice to make us some tea, and we’ll shut the door.”
Catherine glanced at her watch, the numbers blurring slightly. “I’ve got a client in ten, so…”
“Let me get Alice to cancel; you’re in no fit state. You should—”
“Thank you, but no. I’m okay. I’ll be okay.” She raised her hands. “Work will take my mind off it,” she said, not really knowing how she was meant to help other people get through their difficult times while she was wading through the thick of her own.
“Are you sure?” He sucked in a breath and bobbed his open palms as if weighing the air. “It’s one of the perks of having a practice partner, isn’t it? Free therapy when you need it.”
Catherine forced a smile. “I’ll get another blog post up soon.”
“No rush. Whenever you feel up to it.” He turned to leave, but glanced back. “You know where I am, okay?”
Cradling a steaming cup of chamomile, Catherine settled into bed with her laptop propped on a pillow.
She hadn’t set out to write about grief; it wasn’t the obvious choice of topic to cover for a mindfulness blog, but whilst staring at the flashing cursor on the blank screen, that’s what came to her in a tidal wave of sorrow demanding expression.
She’d been touched by Jeremy’s offer to talk, but the last thing she wanted was to unravel in front of him.
Penny had checked in and offered to come over, but Catherine craved the soft solitude of her bed cocoon.
She needed quiet time to find the right words to soothe and rationalise the raw emotions that had chafed inside her ever since the nurse said, “I’m so sorry — she’s gone. ”
Catherine spent hours crafting the blog post, taking so much care over so few words, she scrutinised each one until they blurred and danced around her screen.
With a deep sigh, she hit the ‘publish’ button, snapped her laptop shut, and slid down between her soft sheets, letting the darkness fold over her.
Grief arrives quietly, but reshapes everything.
You don’t need to silence it — only to meet it, moment by moment.
First… breathe. Let the ache rise and fall with your breath. Exhale the sorrow.
Then… notice. A memory, a trace, a presence that still glows in the quiet corners of your heart.
And finally… hold onto small comforts, however fragile — a nickname they had for you, a recipe they taught you, an old jumper they wore. These things endure beyond absence.
Loss is a weight to be carried with patience, reverence, and the quiet knowledge that love doesn’t die.
The following morning, sunlight streamed through the gap in the curtains, painting a stripe across her duvet.
She woke to the biggest response she’d ever had to a blog so far.
Notifications flooded her inbox — likes and comments from names she’d never seen before, strangers offering condolences and sharing their own experiences of loss.
And Betty.
Catherine’s heart stuttered.
Betty77:
Hey. I saw your latest blog. Beautiful words, thank you for sharing x
P.S. I hope you’re okay. x
Dr.T:
Hi. It’s been a tough few days. I lost someone I really cared about. It’s always difficult to say goodbye, isn’t it? Thanks for reaching out x
Betty77:
I’m so sorry. Be gentle with yourself x
Catherine drew a shuddering breath and pushed back the covers. Enough moping. What better way to shake the sadness from her bones than a walk?