Page 12 of Life After Me

I peered down into the grave and almost burst into tears again at the huge pile of flowers covering her coffin.

Every person who’d come to say farewell had dropped a single, pure white tulip in for her.

The wood of the coffin and carved brass plaque were almost completely hidden beneath the tulips.

There were hundreds of them, lying haphazardly over Jenn in a chaotic display of love and grief.

The summary of my kind, clever, beautiful, loving wife’s life.

Hundreds of tulips piled up, one for each person who would be missing her.

I think she’d have been quite touched to see them all.

I wished she was there with me so I could have shared it all with her, and let her know how many people love her.

I wish I’d told her that I loved her more. But I think she knew.

I hope she did.

There were people waiting for me, and I had to go, but I didn’t know how to move. I didn’t know how to leave Jenn there in that cold, empty, lonely hole. I didn’t know how I was supposed to say goodbye and just walk away from my wife for ever.

That’s when the cold warmth flooded over me again, and warm breeze ruffled my hair and pulled at my jacket.

I wiped away the tears I hadn’t even realised were streaming down my cheeks, and caught a whiff of cocoa butter hand lotion.

There was a flutter of movement in the corner of my eye and honeysuckle tickled at my nostrils, but I couldn’t bear to turn my head and look properly.

If it was Jenn, then I didn’t want her to disappear, and if it wasn’t her, then I didn’t want to know.

I think something brushed against my cheek, but the touch was so delicate it could have been my desperate mind imagining it.

Either way it gave me strength. I stared at the tulip I’d been holding so gently and stroked its soft petals. I could see why she loved the flowers so much. They were delicate and beautiful — just like her. I kissed the petals gently, and let it drop in with all the others.

‘Thank you for the wonderful life you’ve given me, and our beautiful children.’ My voice broke and I had to whisper the final words. ‘Ever yours, Jenn. I’m always and ever yours.’

* * *

We’d organised the wake to take place back at the church hall.

I couldn’t get into the car with the others.

I needed to be by myself for a few minutes and I needed to be moving.

So I waved the driver on as I walked past the cars.

It sounds silly now, but I felt like if I kept moving, I might just make it through the awfulness of the day.

I didn’t know what I was going to do the next morning.

Funerals are funny things. Everyone views them as the end.

The goodbyes have been said, and most people can go back to their normal lives, with their grieving pretty much over and done.

Even the rest of the family will move on.

Matty will go home with Lucy, Lottie will go back to her flat in Farringdon, and Sarah will fly home with her husband and children, and everyone will go back to their normal lives.

Of course they’ll still be grieving for Jenn too, but they won’t have to wake up to an empty bed and silent house where she should be.

For me the funeral’s just the beginning. The day after there’s less to do. Less to organise. There aren’t flowers or readings or songs to think about. There aren’t any distractions. There’s just me. Without Jenn.

In a way I didn’t want that awful day to end, because the funeral was still a link to Jenn. Albeit a painful one. Once the funeral was over, I knew I would have to start getting my life back together, which meant working out how to live without Jenn.

I walked back to the church hall slowly, using the time to pull myself together.

I paused at the doors, not entirely ready to face everyone waiting inside for the wake.

If I’d had my choice, I would have headed home to collapse on the sofa with a bottle of whisky to keep me company.

It’s not something I’d usually do, but right then I just wanted to be alone with my memories.

And to maybe drink enough to pretend that none of this had even happened.

Though that might be something I should knock on the head soon.

I’ve been going through the alcohol cupboard far too quickly lately, and Jenn would never have approved.

But it seems to help a bit, and I just can’t seem to find the will to care all that much.

Anything that helps is good. I’ll think about it another day. If I can be bothered.

But as much as I’d like to crawl into a corner and just drink until I forget everything, Jenn wouldn’t have wanted me to do that.

She would have wanted me to go in and socialise, and spend time with other people, remembering her.

So I took a deep breath and swung the doors open, and stepped into a room full of memories of Jenn.

Lottie spotted me as soon as I walked in, handed her drink to a neighbour and rushed to my side. ‘Are you all right? We were worried.’

‘I think I’ll be all right,’ I answered honestly. ‘Is that the same thing?’

She slipped her arm through mine and led me towards the back of the room. ‘I think maybe it is. Shall we get a drink? I think there’s a bottle of whisky back there somewhere.’

‘Thanks. I could do with it.’

A few minutes later I was nursing a glass of amber fluid that burned as I swallowed it, and filled me with warmth.

‘MrHughes?’ The polite voice didn’t match the heavy leather coat, black jeans and long hair. And it really clashed with the gothic rings and piercings.

‘Yes.’ I shook the offered hand gingerly.

‘My name’s Stu. Stuart. I just wanted to say how sorry I am about MrsHughes.’

‘Thank you. How did you know Jenn?’

‘I was one of her students nearly ten years ago. I don’t think she ever stopped nagging me.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry about that.’ I didn’t know what to say.

‘I’m not.’ He grinned. ‘She kicked my arse up and down the corridors for five years. And it was exactly what I needed. I was way too smart for my own good back then, and nothing but trouble. Everyone else lost patience with me, but not MrsHughes. She wouldn’t ever stop pushing and nagging at me.

She never left me alone. And I couldn’t be more grateful.

I got through college, and now I’m doing a part-time course in social care and working with other high-risk kids.

All because of her.’ He took a deep breath.

‘I don’t think I ever really thanked her.

I should have. So, I wanted to say it to you instead, and make sure that you knew.

We all loved MrsHughes. She really was one of a kind. ’

I’d known Jenn was popular at work, how could she not be? But I hadn’t realised she’d made such an impact on the children she’d worked with. She’d literally changed people’s lives. ‘Thank you.’

‘No worries. Like I said, I just wanted to make sure you knew. If there’s anything I can do for you, let me know, all right?’

I nodded, not fully trusting myself to speak.

* * *

Jenn

I was right to be worried. Once the wake was over, and David and the children had gone home, I found myself being pulled back into the grey place. It seems to happen more when I’m tired. After today, and so many people’s emotions pulling me back and forth, I’m exhausted.

Anyway, that’s when it happened. A bright red, slightly battered rubber ball appeared from nowhere, and rolled to a stop at my feet.

I stared at it in surprise, thinking that I knew it from somewhere.

It was the first thing I’d seen here since arriving, and the colour was so bright it seemed to glow.

I picked it up to study it, and bounced it between my palms, trying to work out where I knew it from.

When it finally clicked I nearly dropped the ball in surprise.

Of course I knew this ball. How could I forget?

It belonged to Daisy, our Border collie.

I sat on the ground batting it back and forth between my hands.

I hadn’t thought about her in a long time — faithful, loving, clever little Daisy.

David brought her home when Lottie was about three years old.

He’d thought all children should have a pet, and that a dog was the perfect addition to our family.

She was a scrappy little bundle of scruffy, yappy fluff and we all fell in love with her at first sight.

She was part of our family from the moment she’d clumsily scampered into our lives and we all loved her dearly.

She’d treasured her bouncy balls, and for some reason the red ones were always her favourite, even though she was supposedly colour blind.

When she finally had to leave us at nearly seventeen, we buried her with a collection of her favourite toys, with her beloved red ball by her nose.

I think I cried for the best part of a week.

I know that Lottie did, even though she was far beyond being a kid at the time.

I had no idea what the red ball meant, but it had to be important so I kept it with me.

A while later a cold, snuffly nose thumped against my hand and made me jump. As soon as Daisy saw she had my attention, she sat, begging for her favourite toy.

‘Hello girl. I’ve missed you.’ I wrapped my arms around her and buried my face in her riotous black and white fur.

She felt warm and solid, and I could feel her tail thumping excitedly on the ground.

She looked almost the same as I remembered her, only younger and healthier.

She wriggled against me and tried to sniff me all over, whimpering and snuffling until finally deciding she was happy, and headbutting me so hard I fell over.

She nuzzled at my hand, licking at my fingers, trying to free her toy.