Chapter 10
There’s an email address on Naomi’s website, a direct line to her, and the compulsion to use it is overwhelming.
A picture of her is there, and I have studied it at length – she is much heavier and more lined than she was in the Beaches photo album on Facebook.
Her hair is streaked with grey, its gloss long gone.
As a special elevenses treat at work, I take myself up to the toilets by the rooftop, where the last person to use them probably did so in analogue.
Luxuriating in aloneness and the certainty that I will not be followed, I draft an email to this complete stranger whom I have already thought so much about.
Dear Naomi,
You don’t know me, but I found your website while looking for grief-counselling services in London, England, where I live.
Unfortunately, the emotional supports I am coming up against here are severely lacking, so I thought I might get in contact with people overseas who seem to have a much more holistic view of the grieving process. Hope you don’t mind.
Your website looks amazing, and has helped me in ways I didn’t even know I needed.
I too have lost a child. It is, by some distance, the worst thing that has happened to me.
There’s not a day that goes by where I don’t feel that loss, or think hard about what my life could be like right now, as a mother.
Moving through the days can be difficult.
I’m feeling so incredibly alone and sometimes the loneliness can feel like a canyon, ready to take me whole.
I pause for a minute, the wrongness of it a distant knock. I tell myself that I might be saying it to catch Naomi’s attention, but it does also feel true, sometimes.
I understand that you know this pain all too well. I’m so sorry for the loss of your girls and husband.
I will not be able to attend your face-to-face sessions as I live in the UK, but I just wanted to reach out and say that if you ever want to talk about grief and loss with a perfect stranger, I am all ears.
I am in awe of the magnificent work you are doing with others who are bereaved, but I also know that those who help people need their own support too!
Put your own life jacket on first and all that.
In any case, I am thinking of you and holding space for you and your beautiful family in my heart.
Esther
My cursor hovers over the send button. Am I really doing this?
I reason that we have enough common ground to start a dialogue. It’s not entirely about Ted. Away the email goes, halfway across the world.
Minutes later, I hear the ping of a notification that nearly makes my insides end up on the outside.
Thank you so much for your beautiful email! It’s wonderful and very exciting to receive a message from someone in London, England. I had a summer vacation in London back in 2001, and to see places like Buckingham Palace and Notting Hill with my own eyes was a real trip!
I really love that you have picked up on the essence of what we are trying to do here at GriefCare.
‘Holistic’ is exactly my watchword – grief is so multifaceted that it requires a much more rounded approach than simple talk therapy.
And you need a wide circle of people around you to do it.
I’m a huge believer in the power of community.
You never have to walk through this journey alone is something I say all the time!
After the automobile collision that claimed my entire immediate family (I don’t like to use the word accident, as it absolves certain people of blame), I was sure that I could never survive either.
Breathing through the pain in my chest felt almost impossible, so difficult, and I truly believed my days to be numbered.
I can’t say that things have gotten easier, but I am definitely more used to the pain and carrying that along with me.
Luckily, I have a wonderful family that have walked with me every step of the goddam way, and I hope you have that too.
How old was your child when they died?
Let’s keep in touch, although I am not sure how much help I can ever really be if I am over here and you are over there.
I am keeping you in my heart too.
Naomi
My mind immediately snags on the word ‘family’, and I think of Ted helping his step-sibling through this.
It’s hard to tell how close they might be as siblings; he certainly makes no mention of it on his Facebook page.
I’m too excited to even feign coolness and wait, so I fire back an email right away.
Dear Naomi,
Thank you so much for getting back in touch! I am so glad to hear you have family that are helping you through this. Are your parents nearby? Do you have any siblings? Are they a support to you? I hope so.
I lost my child at four months. It was unexpected and heartbreaking and I was only getting used to the idea of being a parent when that whole world was taken from me.
It was only afterwards that I realized how I had wanted to become a mum more than anything in the entire world.
I’m not sure it is even possible for me to become a parent any more, to be honest. I am 36 and the fates do not feel like they are playing on my side.
Esther
Ten minutes later, I see another email from Naomi. This is genuinely as thrilling as any new romance I’ve ever had.
Four months old, gosh. That’s a beautiful age.
Babies are just starting to show their personalities and smile a little bit, right?
I am devastated to hear that your child was so young, and just starting their life.
I have met parents who will never get over the weight of carrying that small coffin.
They can almost still feel it in their arms.
May his (or her?) memory be a blessing.
You say it’s not possible to become a parent, but know that you ARE one, whether your child is earthside or not.
And 36 is not too old! I am not familiar with your circumstances, but if you are referring to the biological clock (which I think you are), the dream of being a mom isn’t as out of reach as you think it is right now.
Having three young girls felt like a handful, like really full-on every day.
Every night, when I closed the door on them at bedtime, I felt like an air stewardess who had just come off a long-haul flight.
I kvetched a lot about how challenging it all was at the time while I was doing it, which is something I have had to take a lot of time to process.
I’d give anything to be on that hamster wheel again.
My family – well, my husband’s family, perhaps more specifically – are supportive. They invite me over for the high holidays and stay in regular contact. I think it also helps them to have me there, to talk about David. He was an only child so I know they are feeling his loss hugely.
Take care of yourself, Esther. I am thinking of you and your little one today. The one thing I tell everyone is to remember you are incredibly strong. Much stronger than you could ever know.
‘Baby’. Four months. I could correct her, but I don’t strictly want to.
I am wary of snuffing out the flame on all of this too soon, so I leave a burning question on the tip of my metaphorical tongue.
What about your own family, the Levys? Where are they in all of this?
How good a support is your own step-brother?
As I’m pondering all of this, I get a Facebook message from Violet. ‘I see you are friends with TL on here,’ she writes. ‘How good of a friend are you exactly?’
I am keenly aware of the risk of stepping on toes here. Equally, I’m warmed by the rush I feel at being accepted by Violet. Singled out.
‘We’re not friends,’ I reply. ‘I requested his friendship and he accepted. I’m just a fan who stopped by online, wanted to say hi and good job to him. Not much more to it than that.’
‘Huh,’ she writes back. ‘I’ve been blocked from his page.’
‘I’ve joined your fan page,’ I tell her, though she obviously already knows this.
‘It seems like a really good place to hear about all things Ted-related. I like to keep track of what he’s doing in this career.
He’s just fascinating as a performer! I love people who carry that much artistic integrity. ’
‘Yeah, well, that’s where I saw your name. IKR? It’s a fun place to hang out. We’re all pretty tight, although most are a bit younger than you? How old are you exactly? Don’t be a lurker tho, get involved! We don’t bite! Unless asked!’
I’m thinking on how to put the glossiest spin I can on the bag of piss that is my life right now as I walk with Carrie to the cinema the following evening. But she beats me to it.
‘So,’ she breathes. ‘I don’t really know how to tell you this properly, but I’m pregnant.’
I feel the cold blood right down into my toes. I also instantly recall how coolly ungracious she was when I told her about my own pregnancy just last year. But now, she is the absolute picture of contentment. I’ve never seen her like this. Everything stiffens between us.
‘With the guy who can only handle one new person a week? And who I haven’t even met yet?’
‘Well, it’s not like I’ve kept him locked up in a cellar or anything. Brigitte’s met him, plenty of times. She’ll vouch for him.’
It’s meant to be a joke, but it’s landing like a toddler who has fallen into an open dishwasher. The whole street seems to darken.
‘Pregnant though, Jesus.’ I load my voice with as much concern as I possibly can. It still reeks of judgement.
‘I know,’ Carrie says, not caring to let the negativity fall in on her, if indeed she senses it. ‘My parents were a bit “whoa”, but they’re coming around, I think. Billy is made up.’
I think back to Johnny and his ‘my boys can swim’ moment and something snaps with a ‘thwack’.
‘You reckon he’s gonna stick around? He’ll have to meet more than one person a week for the rest of his life if he becomes a dad. I hope you’ve let him in on that.’
‘I know, there will be a lot to get used to. For both of us, I think.’
‘And what about your fabulous life? Work? You won’t be able to travel the way you do now.’
‘And that’s fine, Esther.’
We walk in silence for a bit.
‘Maybe I gave you the wrong impression of him,’ she says, thinking it through for herself. ‘He’s a really good guy. Kind. Rings his mum.’
I make a face as if to say, That’s not impressive. It’s a weird collision of feelings. I hate myself and am comforted by it at the same time.
‘Honestly, I never thought it would happen for me,’ Carrie finally says, more quietly. ‘I feel like the girl who didn’t study for her A-levels, then crams for two days right before the exams and aces it. Can’t you just be happy for me that it’s happened, and that it’s something that I wanted?’
‘Did you want it?’ I say, faux-confused. We’re still ambling along in silence, not looking at each other. Our steps have become tentative. ‘I mean, it’s a bit of a cliché, isn’t it?’ The temptation to stick the sword in, alas, has finally overpowered me.
‘Is it?’
‘Well. Thirty-eight, getting pregnant with the first guy that comes along and sticks around for more than forty-five seconds, and we’re meant to believe that, by complete coincidence, he’s the kind and lovely soulmate you just happened to meet at this precise point in your life?’
Carrie stops and turns to face me.
‘I’m not sure I care about what anyone is meant to believe or wants to,’ she says evenly.
‘I mean, you’re not exactly out of the woods yet either.’ Jesus, how I want to shut myself up and punch myself. ‘What are you, ten or twelve weeks pregnant? A lot can happen in the next while, as you know.’
‘OK, Esther,’ Carrie shouts suddenly, time-out-styley. ‘That’s well over the line. You know, I was giving you a bit of space to have some kind of a reaction here, but this is … just completely ridiculous!’
She turns away. ‘Go to the cinema on your own. You are being so unbelievably uncool.’
She walks away and I throw a half-hearted ‘Come back, don’t be daft’ to the back of her head. But I don’t want her to come back.
The line between companionable silence and something more unsettling than that, I’m starting to realize, is pretty thin.
Johnny and I continue our flawless, mainly wordless tango around the flat.
We are like figure skaters as we make dinner, gracefully careful not to crash into each other.
The days of casually resting my hand on his hip as he pokes around in the fridge, or moving him aside gently by the shoulders, appear to be in the past. The vibe isn’t exactly full-blown uncomfortable, but I can make out the faint outline of a shift.
I’m too proud, or too scared, to take it out into the light and examine it fully with him.
Maybe this is what the long game looks like, I think to myself.
We don’t need to keep the air filled with conversations.
We are just being ourselves. This is why I married you in the first place, Johnny.
Because you were the first man that I could ever really exhale around.
You let me be me, truly and unapologetically.
And yet.
And yet.