Page 33 of Life After Me

David

I’ve not been feeling quite myself lately. It’s like I’ve got a permanent knot in my stomach. It follows me around everywhere and interferes with everything. Jenn’s still with me, of course, but I can’t get rid of this feeling that something isn’t quite... right.

It started the week after Jenn’s birthday. Although, now I think about it, it could even have been before that, but I was so busy concentrating on her birthday that I didn’t let myself think about it.

But now I’ve got nothing but time to think. There isn’t anything I’m really looking forward to right now, or anything I can focus on. Matty and Lucy are planning their wedding, and Lottie’s busy with her photography and Stuart, so I see my children less.

The friends who had been trying to jolly me along seem to have stopped bothering, and I’m hearing less and less from old friends.

I think the problem is that I don’t really have many friends of my own.

Jenn and I had lots of friends, but they were our friends, and I’m not part of an “our” anymore. I’m just me, now.

Besides, I’ve never been that good at keeping in touch with people. Jenn was always the sociable one who made arrangements and befriended people. She sent out the Christmas cards, remembered birthdays and made phone calls. I just tagged along.

I feel like this thing that has settled in my stomach is sapping my energy away.

I don’t feel like I can be bothered with things and I’ve lost all motivation.

Colours are fading out of my world, which is an utterly ridiculous thing to say.

My eyesight is just fine, and I know the colours haven’t actually changed.

But something has. I feel like I’m on a slope that I’m slowly slipping and sliding down, and I just can’t seem to find anything to hold on to.

It all sounds so melodramatic put like that. Completely blown out of proportion. I’m not about to do anything foolish, like jump off a building or bridge. For one thing, I don’t like heights. And it’s nowhere near as dramatic as it sounds. It’s more that I just don’t feel quite right.

It’s just this nagging feeling that I can’t silence anymore.

I feel like something is missing all the time.

I’m sure it’s just silliness, but the other day I found myself watching a couple who were walking down the street holding hands.

Just holding hands. I felt the knot in my stomach tighten a bit more.

How silly is that? To be upset by some random strangers holding hands.

But then I realised it’s because I don’t have anyone I can hold hands with, and I’ll never have that ever again.

I miss it. I miss the feeling of a real, solid hand beneath mine that squeezes back. I miss the comfort of curling up with someone in the evenings, and feeling a warm body and a heart that beats against mine.

Damn it. I miss sex too. I miss the heat and passion of Jenn.

I know I shouldn’t. I know I’m a widower and I should be past all that, but I’m not.

Jenn and I had a great sex life together, and I miss it.

What we have now — this strange ghostly replacement is amazing.

.. beyond anything I could have imagined, and I don’t want to sound ungrateful but.

.. at the same time I miss the physical, normal version too.

Plus Jenn and I are closer now than we’ve ever been before.

I’m not sure I could even have comprehended this level of intimacy last year.

She can wrap her consciousness around my mind as easily as she used to twist her fingers through mine.

We can share thoughts, emotions and sensations.

I love how close we’ve become, and how it feels to have her twined around me.

It’s the only time I really feel happy. Sometimes I think I could die happily, if only I could spend eternity wrapped in her.

But it’s just not the same, and, sometimes, I find myself wanting more.

I want to smell the warm muskiness of a woman again, and feel silky hair brush against me.

I want to feel a soft, yielding body against mine.

I miss the warmth, closeness, desire and touch.

But most of all, I miss the comfort of it, and the way we fitted together so well and so easily.

It made me feel like I belonged somewhere.

Now that Jenn’s gone, I feel like I’ve lost my anchor in this world.

But as much as I miss her, I don’t want Jenn too near me right now.

I don’t want her knowing any of this. It’s just too embarrassing.

Besides, I’d worry that she’d misunderstand and think that she’s somehow not enough — when nothing could be further from the truth.

I still love her and want her near me, but I want more than I can have.

I need to stop being greedy and just be grateful that she’s still in my life.

I know I’m being stupid and selfish. Jenn’s a miracle. Somehow she beat the odds, or the system or whatever, and fought her way back to stay with me. To stay with all of us. I should be more grateful for that. It’s not like I’ve even really given anything up.

But I still miss the physical stuff.

* * *

Jenn

As if he could ever hide anything from me. Even when I was alive and David could still hide behind words and a smile, he couldn’t keep things from me. Now that I can see and feel his thoughts, there are no secrets between us.

The truth is that none of this is new. I’ve been worried about him for weeks now. David just isn’t happy, and I don’t think he has been for a while. I thought, or maybe I hoped, it was nothing. Just my imagination and worries colluding to play tricks on me. But now he’s realising it too.

I know what the problem is. I think he’s lonely. We’ve shared intimacy far deeper and greater than I could ever have imagined. But it doesn’t make up for, or replace, the physical. I think he needs more than half-felt touches and fleeting moments of warmth.

He deserves so much better than what I’m able to give him.

He deserves all the things he’s thinking about, but feeling bad for.

I know he’ll hold on to me and keep loving me until his last breath, but I don’t know if that’s right.

I don’t think it’s fair. I’m the one who died, not him.

He shouldn’t have to give up living as well.

And he shouldn’t be feeling guilty for wanting more.

He should have joy and pleasure in his life. Maybe even love too.

There’s no reason he shouldn’t live for another three or four decades. He’s fit and healthy enough. Can I really ask the man I love to spend that long alone? Just so my feelings don’t get hurt? I don’t think I can. Maybe “until death do us part” are wiser words than I thought.

But I don’t want to see him with another woman. I don’t want to share him with someone else. He’s still my husband. It’s not as if we got a divorce or chose to separate. We still love each other, and I still want to be with him for every moment he has left. Until we’re back together again.

But I don’t want him to spend the rest of his years stumbling through life, feeling that something vital is missing.

I’m not willing to be the person who holds him back.

I can’t help worrying that it’s only a matter of time before David starts to resent me for all the things that I can’t give him, and all the experiences he isn’t going to have.

Then all this will slip away, and love will become hate, and I’ll lose my hold and anchor in this world.

So I have a choice between my husband growing to resent me, or watching him fall in love with another woman and forgetting me. I honestly don’t know which is worse.

But the hardest thing is that I don’t think this is about me or what I want. I’m already dead and should be gone to a place where there isn’t any pain or hurt. The only reason I stayed here was to make sure that my family were all right.

So you see, this can’t be about me. It has to be about them. I have to help them move on. It was so easy with Lottie and Matty because all I felt was pride for my grown-up babies, and joy and excitement for their achievements and plans.

It’s not going to be as easy with David, because what I’m starting to think he needs goes against my every instinct. It’s going to hurt like nothing either of us has ever known.

It’s a good thing I’m already dead, else I don’t think I could survive this much pain.

* * *

David

The horrible nagging feelings and knot in my stomach haven’t gone away.

If anything, they’ve got worse. I’m not eating properly again.

It just makes the knots worse and it’s too painful.

I’m not painting either. It just seems pointless.

All I do is go to work and then come home and sleep.

Anything else takes too much effort. Maybe I’m coming down with a virus or something.

I want to believe that, because I can’t accept this miserableness is coming from within me.

Jenn’s been after me to do something for over a week now, but I’ve been trying to ignore her.

At first it was black bags turning up in strange places.

The first was folded neatly and peeking out of her top drawer.

I pulled it out and chucked it back under the sink with the others, and tried not to think about what it meant.

Then they started turning up everywhere her stuff was, poking out of drawers and tumbling from shelves.