Chapter 19
Amy: Hungry Heart
Christmas and New Year have been tough at times. I have missed James so much. But, on the bright side, I made a new friend – Gareth is so sweet. I must introduce him to my FFC friends sometime. I’m sure they’d love him too.
It’s almost a year now since James went.
People say the first year is the worst, getting through all the major annual events, like birthdays, Christmas, and so on for the first time.
And after that it will start to get easier.
I can’t say I’m convinced, but maybe it’s true.
It’s just the pain hasn’t subsided at all over the last twelve months.
Some days I actually feel like it’s getting worse.
Distractions. That’s what Carol reckons I need.
She’s right – on some level. If my head’s really busy with other things it does take my mind off the gaping hole in my life that James has left behind.
But then it feels like the sadness is just storing up in some kind of reservoir and, as soon as I’m no longer distracted by other things, the pent-up grief comes flooding out. And is that really any better?
My birthday isn’t long after when James passed.
And James, being James – the most thoughtful boyfriend you could imagine – had planned ahead and ordered tickets to see Bruce Springsteen on his latest tour.
It was a complete surprise, and totally heartbreaking, when the tickets arrived out of the blue in a gift pack on my birthday last year.
I pushed all thoughts of going to the back of my mind, partly because it was so long until the concert, and partly because it felt all wrong not to be going with James.
James and I would have had such a great time going there together.
I love Springsteen’s music – not perhaps what you might expect, but my taste in music has always been pretty eclectic, probably from listening to so much with my mum.
Really, if you only had my Apple Music library to go by, you’d think I had some kind of multiple personality disorder.
I like almost anything, from The Ink Spots to David Guetta – and a million things in between.
So now the date for the concert is creeping closer and I have to decide whether to find someone else who wants to go with me to see Springsteen in concert, or go on my own, or maybe it would be easier just to give the tickets away.
I asked Gareth last night if he’d like to go, but he’s going to be away over that weekend.
Perhaps I’ll just pop over to the crem at lunchtime and see if anyone in the FFC is interested in going.
So, quite a few people are here today, and we’re talking about the concert when Paul walks in and catches the tail end of our conversation.
‘I don’t mean to be nosy, but did I just overhear that someone’s got a spare ticket for Springsteen’s tour? Who’s the lucky one?’
‘It’s Amy,’ pipes up Bob.
‘Oh, sorry Amy, I didn’t realise.’ Paul seems a bit embarrassed. He’s probably worried he’s kind of invited himself to the concert. But Paul’s lovely, and if he likes Springsteen it would be great to go with him.
‘No, no worries. Would you like to go, Paul?’
‘Oh no, it’s fine, you must have loads of friends who want to go. Sorry, I thought it was—’ Paul starts to head off.
‘You thought it was one of us oldies who needed someone to go with, didn’t you?’ teases Liz.
Paul looks a bit unsure how to respond to this. I feel like I need to come to his rescue.
‘No, really, it would be great if you would come with me. My friends my age aren’t really into his music, and it’s such a waste for someone who’s not a fan to go. These tickets are like gold dust.’
‘I know. I spent nearly an hour in a queue online last year, only to get the message the tickets had sold out.’
‘Well, that’s settled then. You should definitely go with Amy,’ adds Tom.
Paul still looks slightly awkward. But I’m really happy to go to the concert with him. He’s so kind and dependable.
‘Oh, come on Paul. It’ll be great,’ I say.
‘Well, I’d love to, if you’re sure?’
‘Of course I’m sure,’ I insist.
‘Okay then. Amazing! Thanks.’ He beams.
So now, after the concert, I am so, so glad I went.
Wow! It was completely amazing! It went on for over three hours and Springsteen didn’t stop singing from the moment he ran onto the stage with the E Street Band until the last notes of the final encore.
They didn’t even bother with support acts – just dived straight into the concert, with the audience going instantly from zero degrees to on fire.
He’s in his seventies and he has more stamina than most twenty-year-olds.
I managed to get through ‘Streets of Philadelphia’ even though I thought it might make me cry.
It’s from such a sad movie, which James and I had watched together not long before he passed.
We’d been having a Tom Hanks movie week.
We often used to do themed movie weeks when James was home for a long stretch.
So, we might have a Marvel week, where we’d watch only movies from the MCU, or binge-watch a show like Hawkeye.
Or a Cary Grant week. One time we did a ‘so bad they’re good’ movie week – but in the end we had to stretch it to two weeks as we found so many top movies for it.
The Room was the absolute best (not to be confused with Room, which is a genuinely good movie) – it’s an absolute shitshow of a movie, but honestly, it’s so terrible it’s hilarious.
Well worth a watch, if you can get hold of a copy.
Anyway, Philadelphia was in our Tom Hanks week, and I remember sobbing through half of it.
So between that and missing James, I thought the song was bound to make me cry.
But, amazingly, I kept it together through that one.
My downfall was when he came back on at the end and did a solo encore of ‘I’ll See You In My Dreams’.
There’s a line in it about death not being the end, which is the real tear-jerker for me.
I suppose it’s this crazy hope that it’s true, combined with the fear that it’s not.
I so need for it to be true, that death isn’t the end.
I so need to believe that there’s more, that one day I’ll be with James again.
So now we’re heading back home and I can just sit back and relax, because Paul very kindly offered to drive.
I like driving, and I love my car – partly because it’s a gorgeous red Mini Cooper with the really cool union flag tail-lights and wing mirrors, and partly because James, being super-generous, bought it for me – but I don’t know Birmingham very well, and it’s dark and it’s started to rain, and, do you know, it’s just nice to be driven somewhere for a change.
Since James went, it’s always me driving myself.
Actually, if I’d been coming to the concert with James, we’d probably have stayed over, because he had an army friend from his Sandhurst days in the area.
But it wasn’t someone I’d met many times, and he wasn’t in the same regiment as James, so I thought it was a bit of a cheek to ask him if I could stay, and it would have been a bit weird for Paul anyway.
I’ve never met Paul away from the crem before.
He’s one of those people who is always interested in others and making them feel special, and not one to talk about himself.
And as we drive, I realise I know almost nothing about his life outside the crem.
I’m curious to find out more, and there’s plenty of time to chat, so I bring the conversation round to him.
‘So what did you do before you worked at the crem?’
‘Oh, that seems like a lifetime ago,’ he replies.
‘Really? How long have you been there?’
‘Hmm. It’ll be seven years in March,’ he says, switching the wipers up a notch. It’s raining heavily now.
‘And before that?’ I ask.
‘I was working in hotel management.’
‘So, quite different then?’
There’s a pause before he answers. ‘Yes and no. Working at the crematorium is still about looking after customers, making sure they get the best experience possible, just under very different circumstances. Sadder, but more important in a way.’
‘I guess so. And you are amazing at that. But why the move to the crem in the first place?’
‘It’s a long story.’
‘It’s a long journey.’
‘I suppose it is.’ He lets out a sigh.
‘Hey, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have been prying. Shall we stick some music on instead?’ I reply hurriedly, reaching for the stereo controls. ‘I really didn’t mean to be nosy.’
‘It’s fine. I know I keep my cards close to my chest a lot of the time. It’s just been easier that way.’
‘You keep your cards right there, if that’s what works for you. I know I’m terrible for being the opposite. Telling everyone everything. It’s mad really. And probably really annoying to other people.’
‘I doubt that anyone finds it annoying,’ he says kindly. ‘I think it’s lovely that you’re so open about your feelings. Everyone at the crem does. It’s part of why everyone loves you.’
‘Ah, be quiet. Now you’re making me blush.’
‘Well, blush away. It’s true. You’re like a breath of fresh air at the crem, Amy.
But if you want to know my reasons for going to work there, well, the thing is, I got married very young – basically Laura was my childhood sweetheart from school.
We went out together for years, and we were married at twenty.
We were both in good jobs, we loved the place where we lived, lots of friends close by.
And then she got ill – just out of the blue.
One minute, life seemed perfect. The next, it all came crashing down around us. Well, you know what it’s like.’
There’s a lump in my throat, so I just nod. Then I remember it’s dark – and he’s driving – so I realise I have to say something.
‘Yep, I get it. Completely,’ I manage in a wobbly voice. It’s clear where Paul’s story is going, and I feel so sad. I had no idea he was grieving too.
‘And twelve weeks later she’d gone.’
‘Paul, I’m so sorry.’ And I’m wishing we weren’t in a car and he wasn’t driving, because I really want to give him a hug right now.
‘It’s a long time ago now. I’ve learnt to deal with it,’ he says, but there’s a deep sadness in his voice.
‘But you haven’t moved on.’
‘Well, physically I did – Laura and I used to live in Yorkshire, but I needed to get away, make a fresh start, so I moved down here. I started in a hotel in the city, but then I saw the advert for this job and something about it just felt right.’
‘Wasn’t it hard to be dealing with so many other deaths and organising funerals when you were still going through your own grief?’ I am full of admiration for his selflessness.
‘No, somehow it helps, being around others who have also lost loved ones. You understand that. Maybe you should think about working at the crem too. There are a couple of vacancies at the moment. You never know, you might find it helps.’
I mull that one over.
‘Maybe,’ I say. ‘I’ll have a think about it.’ But quite honestly, I’m not sure I could take any more upheaval right now. My marketing job feels like a rare constant in my life, one of the few things that didn’t change when James passed.
I love that I’ve had a chance to get to know Paul more, understand him better, but I’m so sad that it’s a heart-breaking story of silent loss and grief. So many people suffering, and yet the world doesn’t talk about it. Is grief simply the last taboo?