Page 30 of Life After Me

David

The coroner’s report and inquest findings were finally released today. The policeman who’d been involved in the aftermath of Jenn’s death brought it round himself.

I hadn’t bothered to go to the inquest. The police said it wasn’t necessary.

They’d already got my statement, and it was a pretty straightforward case.

I could have gone along to question the other witnesses, but it seemed so pointless.

I was the main witness and I didn’t really want to relive that day again.

It’s already branded into my memory as it is.

Besides, I don’t think there’s actually anything that useful I could tell anyone.

All I really remember was the world-shattering noise, and pain slamming into me.

Then I remember Jenn, slipping away from me.

And the cold. I don’t think I’ll ever forget the cold.

It seeped into me and lasted for days. Even wrapped up in blankets at the hospital and drugged out of my mind, I was still shaking with cold.

The policeman sat awkwardly on the sofa, and waved away my offer of tea.

He was just dropping the report in on his way home to make sure I found out about it properly, and that he could answer any questions I had.

That was nice of him. He’d handed over a thin envelope, and watched as I read it.

It seemed such a ridiculously short document to sum up the worst day of my life.

The inquest status was “officially concluded”. Jenn had died of “exsanguination by cause of catastrophic internal haemorrhage” caused by “traumatic dissection of thoracic aorta”.

It was nothing new. The doctors at the hospital explained all that to me. The next bit was mildly interesting, as it confirmed what I’d thought all along. The cause of death was given as a “motor vehicle accident” where the “secondary vehicle spun on ice and impacted to the passenger side”.

Accidental death . The words screamed at me from the box marked “final verdict”.

Jenn died in an accident. I honestly didn’t know if that made things better or worse.

There was no one at fault, and no one to be angry with.

But equally there was no one to blame. Jenn’s death had just been a pointless accident.

A conspiracy of fate. We’d just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. It’s a very depressing thought.

Then again, maybe it isn’t. Maybe it doesn’t have to change anything. Maybe it just is what it is. That’s certainly how Jenn would have viewed it.

* * *

Jenn

I’m glad David took the inquest results so well. I was worried they’d upset him, and that I still wouldn’t be able to reach past what’s left of the depressive fog and help him deal with it. But he did just fine. Better than me, actually.

I don’t know why, but I think I might have felt better if there had been a better reason.

Someone to blame and be angry at. Not just a load of bad luck and worse weather.

I wanted my death to have been more than just a random mess of coincidences and bad timing.

If we had stayed for that last cup of tea, we wouldn’t have even been on that fatal stretch of road at that turning point in time.

Or maybe if I’d driven we’d have been further back.

I always drove a little slower than David.

A few seconds would have made all the difference. A moment would have saved my life.

Then again, maybe it was just my time. Maybe we’d have missed that accident only to have another worse one where David was taken with me. I guess when your time is up, it’s up.

But I still think I might have liked to have someone to be angry at.

Someone to blame, who could take responsibility for my death.

Maybe their hurting would have taken away some of my pain.

Then again, maybe not. I never really bothered with holding grudges in life, and I’ve got things to do that are much more interesting and important than starting to hold them now.

I want to share Matty and Lucy’s happiness and excitement. I want to help Lottie get back to the path she should really be on, and help her make herself a happy future.

I want to visit with my sister instead of just checking in on her quietly without trying to interact with her or revealing my presence at all — Lottie’s right, it would upset her to think I’m not in heaven.

But most of all, I want to get back to David. Properly.

The antidepressants seem to finally be starting to work.

He’s not so trapped in that impenetrable cloud anymore.

It’s not completely over yet, but it’s getting better.

I keep reaching for him, but his consciousness slips away into a fog.

It’s so frustrating. Like trying to catch a bubble.

But every time I reach for him, the slip away is a little slower, and I know it’s only a matter of time before I can wrap around him again, and slip into his mind.

He knows I’m here. I see him smiling at windows, and I know he’s caught a glimpse of me as we’ve walked by.

Well, as he’s walked by. He still talks to me as if I’m with him, even though we both know I can’t respond yet.

Still, soon his system will be rebalanced and maybe then his mind will be clear again, and we can get back to being together. I can’t wait.

I think it’s going to be even better than before.

The more time I spend around my family, absorbing their happiness, the stronger I seem to become.

The grey place that had trapped me seems further away, and things in the real, living world respond to me better.

I’m not just moving around rings and keys anymore.

Now I can do other things too, like turn on the television or radio, and move around other small objects.

Like David’s paintbrushes. Maybe I’ll even be able to write him a message one day. Wouldn’t that be something?

It’s not a normal relationship, but who cares? So long as we’re both happy it doesn’t matter what shape that happiness takes. And we are happy. Everyone is. The whole of my world seems to be glowing with energy and the light of my family’s happiness.

It’s utterly blissful.

* * *

David

Life just seems to be getting better and better lately. The antidepressants must have finally started working, because Jenn’s back. She slammed into me without any warning and wrapped around me. It felt fantastic. Like stepping into a warm shower.

She feels stronger than ever. Things seem to move around more often, and the house is filled with her perfume.

I keep finding myself humming her favourite songs absent-mindedly, and the tiny white feathers that often mark her visits have been appearing in the strangest places.

Yesterday I found one balanced on the tip of a paintbrush.

I’ve even found them in the fridge when she thought I wasn’t eating properly.

But it’s so much more than that. The house just feels.

.. different. It feels like Jenn’s here, laughing and filling the place with light and warmth, just like she did when she was alive.

She’s nagging me again. When I started to feel a little down the other day, the radio flicked on to one of my favourite songs, and my paintbrushes started to jump up and down in their pot.

She’s right of course. Painting always makes me feel better.

I don’t know if it’s my perception improving, or Jenn’s presence growing stronger, but she has definitely been more noticeable.

It would make sense. Our children are both happy.

Matty and Lucy are engaged, and Lottie seems to be half-living with Stuart and never stops smiling.

Jenn would want to be close by to share in this happiness.

Maybe I’m sharing it too, and all the good news has pushed away the last of my anger to make way for more happiness.

It’s such a relief to have Jenn back. I actually feel like I can face the world again.

Getting out of bed every morning doesn’t hurt anymore.

I’m eager to see what each day will bring.

Life is inspiring and exciting. I’m starting to see the beauty in the world again, and the old familiar itching to pick up a paintbrush has returned.

I want to try to capture the beauty around me before it fades away for ever.

The only thing is, it seems like the images and colours are fading away more quickly than they used to.

Or maybe I’m just not capturing them as fast as I once did.

I feel like everything I try to do is a little more sluggish.

I don’t know, I must be tired, or getting old.

Or maybe the antidepressants haven’t totally kicked in yet.

Actually, now I think of it, it must be that. It couldn’t be anything else.

* * *

Jenn

David’s almost as glad to have me back as I am to be back. He spent half the night sitting up, drinking wine, and just talking to me. Telling me about all the things he’d worried I’d missed, and everything that was on his mind.

I miss this.

I miss the way we used to sit up for hours, just talking and catching up on each other’s lives.

I miss curling up on the sofa and just being together.

I miss the way he’d absent-mindedly play with my hair and twist it into curls around his fingers.

I desperately want to feel his breath against my skin again, and to wrap my fingers around his.

But there’s no point dwelling on sadness and what can never be, especially now.

Now’s a time for joy and celebration, for hopes and dreams for the future.

Because Matty and Lucy are getting married!

I’m still not tired of thinking about it.

I’m so pleased for them both. It really is the most wonderful news.

Finding someone you love enough to spend the rest of your life with, and realising that they love you too, is truly something special and wonderful, and worth celebrating.

It’s something worth fighting for. Maybe the only thing in the world that really is worth it.

Even if you are scared of getting hurt, it’s worth the risk.

Even when it seems impossible and the barriers between you seem insurmountable, it’s still worth it.

Love deserves every chance and every ounce of strength, faith and hope you can give it.

I need to remember that. I need to remember why it’s so important.

I need to focus on the positive, and what David and I still do have together, instead of regretting and mourning what we’ve lost.

Besides, there are other positive things to focus on, because Matty isn’t the only one with good news.

.. only Lottie doesn’t know about hers yet.

I can’t wait to see her face when she finds out.

I only wish I could tell her myself. But it wouldn’t be the same if I did. Even if I could work out how to do it.

It’s all so exciting when things just fall into place perfectly.

I’m so pleased for my daughter and the news she doesn’t know is coming yet.

I just buzz with energy whenever I start to think about it.

It’s yet another good thing that’s happened because of my death.

I’m glad, because it makes being dead a little bit easier to bear.

This time I didn’t have all that much to do with it. It’s mostly thanks to Stuart and David, my wonderful colleagues, and all the children at school. And my beautiful daughter’s unsquashable ability to see the beauty in every situation.

Maybe there was some good old-fashioned luck too. And a little spiritual guidance, if you get what I mean.

All right, maybe more than a little.

It must have been a really slow week for news, because my coroner’s report was published, along with Lottie’s photos from the great daffodil planting at school.

They really are quite lovely, but I’ve always thought that about her work.

I almost believe there’s something magical about her camera.

She always manages to capture things, and people, at their very best. People come alive in front of her lens and her rapidly clicking fingers, and she captures them that way.

Alive, powerful, and brimming with feelings and energy.

She sees beauty that other people miss, and she captures it and pins it to paper in a way that suddenly everyone else can understand. Then they can see it too.

She gets that from her dad. I never understood how either of them could look at something boring and ordinary, like the multistorey car park, and see beauty in it.

That was a place I could never follow them to.

But somehow, when I saw the pictures afterwards, it was always so obvious.

Even now, in this strange place from where I can see the whole world differently, I still struggle to see what they see.

But anyway, back to Lottie’s soon-to-come brilliant news.

A certain photographer, employed by a certain paper that had previously published Lottie’s photos, might just have failed to turn up to a certain photo shoot he should have been at.

I happen to know it’s because he was in a slightly dodgy-looking hotel in Scarborough with a model he picked up at a recent photo shoot, but that’s not really important.

What is important, is that a dozen models were being paid to sit around in bathrobes with little to do but primp and gossip, at the expense of the editor who was fast losing his temper.

It turned out that his staff photographer was covering a festival somewhere up north, and his two main backups were at a mutual friend’s wedding.

From there, it was almost too easy. The most recent editions of the paper were piled up in a corner of the room. It didn’t take much effort to knock the editor’s coffee over his laptop, and send him racing for the papers to soak up the liquid before it destroyed the delicate electronics.

It took even less effort to make sure that the page at the top was the one with Lottie’s photos from the daffodil planting.

Even now, months later, the image still glowed with the energy and feelings of the day.

Love, hope, peace and laughter. Fond memories still spilled from that one image in a rush of energy.

Like I said, my daughter has an almost magical ability with a camera.

The editor stared at the image as the coffee slowly soaked into it, staining it brown. He grunted to himself and reached for the phone. He didn’t notice the single, pure white feather that drifted off the edge of the table and twisted in a lazy circle before hitting the floor.