Please, Remember Me

Chapter One - Cowbells and Clocktowers

The night it all began I sat there and I wondered if there was something I could have done. Some small thing I could have done to prevent that engulfing feeling of loneliness that showered over me. I wondered about it all, why I was the way I was, how I'd cope later on if I had children or got married without a mother or grandmother or anyone around to steer me right... Losing any and all family, even if you never knew any of them was a bitter pill to swallow. Because in the grand scheme of things all of the people who are biologically disposed to love you unconditionally, are gone. The rest of your relationships don't have that factor, which makes it that much easier for them to leave by their own accord. So, they're never as completely there as family is.

I wasn't alone, I knew that. But I felt lonely all the time. Maybe it was a side effect of the grief that still followed me around like a stink. I had a family, one I'd chosen, but none who I could absolutely count on to stay around forever.

After loss a lot of us shy away from letting people in, and I was a master at that. I had two people on my inside, but there were countless others I didn't let get to the very core of me. Because losing people hurt, no matter what, and the closer they got the worse it hurts. It was possibly a defense against the crippling pain I'd felt two years ago. It was possibly the fact that the last of my youthful naiveté had disappeared along with her because death can only punch you in the face so many times before you lose grip on childhood.

It was a sad night. And as all sad nights, at least the ones worth mentioning, wine was within my reach. I drank from the glass and wondered if I was the epitome of pathetic. That night was one of the worst ones for me, not as in the worst ever, but as in the worst of each year. The irony of my situation was always close at hand during that special night, because it should have been a time to celebrate.

I hadn't celebrated for a long time.

It was inevitable that I'd seek the comfort of random strangers online tonight. It gave me comfort like it does so many, every day. I'd taken up the habit after she was gone. The flat was too empty, too lonely without her puttering around the kitchen or sitting next to me on the old leather sofa with holes in the cushions and padding sticking out...

I'd gotten rid of that sofa a year ago. Along with everything else that reminded me of her. All her things packed up in boxes and either given to charity or put away in the storage Stanislav had provided to me.

The fact that I even stayed in the flat at all was something none of my friends understood. I just loved that flat. I loved that she was there even if I'd removed all traces of her. It was a juxtaposition, I wanted to be reminded of her and yet never see her.

I'd taken help from Adam, Lizzie, Nigel and his wife Katie and we'd spent a few Sundays painting the entire place white, every room except my own, and exchanged all the furniture in the place for brand new things, all my own. The men plus Lizzie had been in charge of carrying furniture and putting the new things together (the last thing being Lizzie's domain) while Katie and I hung pictures and painted.

It now actually looked like my place, not the one I'd shared with her.

I'd bought a purple sofa that seated three, two red chairs to go with it for the living room. I didn't bother replacing the dining table so the room was too big and empty. I just didn't need a table so I could never bother.

On the walls were colourful prints in deep purples, reds and oranges. In the unusable fireplace to the left of the room was a bunch of candles I rarely lit if Lizzie wasn't here. The curtains hanging over the large windows across from me were sheer and white, a huge change to the rustic plaid ones that had been there before.