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She chuckled, and I remembered him laughing his ass off as June had scolded him, calling him an old fool for getting down on the floor.The more he laughed, the harder it was for him to get to his feet, and I giggled at the memory.
“Some days, the good memories are harder than the bad ones,” June said.“Knowing we can’t make any more is hard.And just...it was so sudden.If he’d been ill or showed any signs something was wrong...not that it’s better since the end result is still the same.But I would have had more time to say the things I wanted to say.”She leaned against me, and I tightened my arm around her.
It was far from the first occasion she had expressed the need to tell her husband all the things she didn’t get a chance to.Aside from what I could only assume was a constant agony at losing the most important person in her life, she lived with an unending need to express all she felt for him.While I had done all I could to help her through the grieving process, this was one thing nobody could change for her.
“What would you say to him?”I asked.
“Ooh, so many things, my darling.”June rested her head on my shoulder.“So many things.”
“Do you talk to him when you visit his grave?”Donovan asked.
June shook her head.“Sometimes I talk to him when I’m on my own in the house, but it’s usually just telling him about my day.The things I really want to say are still left unsaid.”
I glanced at Donovan, and for some reason, I sensed we had the same idea.
“Come and sit down,” Donovan said to June, gesturing to the chair I’d vacated.I released my hold on June, and she sat down in the chair beside him as he fumbled around in his laptop bag that was on the floor and pulled out a pen and a pad of lined paper.He placed it in front of her.“Write him a letter.Write down everything you’re thinking.Everything you want to say, and then maybe we could take it to the cemetery for him.”
I watched as June’s eyes misted over at the idea.“You’re the writer, not me.”
“Well, maybe I’ll write one too,” he said, and I saw the moment their gazes connected.I could only see June’s eyes from my position, but they filled with a mix of pain, love, and understanding so strong my own eyes filled with tears.
“Deal,” June said, her voice breaking a little.
Donovan placed his hand over June’s, which rested on the table.I couldn’t stay.This was their time to break through this last barrier that still held them both back.Not from each other, but their grief.June had been holding onto this overwhelming wave of love she couldn’t express.Of words and emotions she wanted her husband to hear, even if she couldn’t physically speak them directly to him.And Donovan had been suppressing some long held-in form of grief that wasn’t just for Trevor, but for his other grandad.He had a lot inside him too that needed to spill out, and I couldn’t be there for it.This was for them.To connect and release all the emotion that had circulated inside them for so long with no escape.
Donovan glanced over his shoulder at me as June picked up the pen, and I offered him a small smile, then nodded towards the door to let him know I was leaving.
“Call me later,” I mouthed, and he nodded, his eyes burning into mine with a sincerity that made my breath catch.
“Thank you,” he mouthed back, and then turned back to the table, taking a couple of pieces of paper from the notepad for himself before handing it back to June.
Without a word, I pulled my boots back on and headed to my house, hoping they would both be okay once their pent-up feelings came to the surface.
Chapter16
Donovan
Nan sat tappingher pen against the notepad, and I picked up a pen and stared at my own blank page.This was my idea.The way I processed things.Almost everything except grief, as it turned out.I made lists, weighed up options, and expressed anger, or concern, or frustration by dumping the contents of my brain onto a piece of paper, but never grief.
I’d never wanted to deal with it, really.Not that anyone does, but left to fester, it becomes so much bigger.And grief is big enough anyway.
I cast my mind back to the memories I’d thought of before.Of visits to see Nan and Grandad in Manchester, and in Dawlish, and when they’d visited us in Cornwall and Italy.About the humour Grandad always brought.About his kindness.
And then I thought about me.Where I’d been.What I’d been doing, and all the things I could have done.Shouldhave done.
And then there was my nan, sitting beside me, writing words down in her curly handwriting.She was lost.Lonely.She was perhaps still a little angry with me, and I couldn’t blame her.
I’d been so fucking self-centered it was unreal.I’d seen her break down twice since I’d been visiting, and if it had happened twice in a few weeks, what had it been like before?At the beginning, when it was so fresh.After six months, it was still pretty fresh.Still so raw and heavy.I’d kept away from her and my parents because of guilt, and that admission wasn’t new to me.I’d said it to Nova, and I’d known exactly what I was doing when I was doing it.But the truth was, I had never been any good at processing grief.Maybe that’s something that happens when you experience it when you’re young.One minute, you’re having the time of your life, and the world is perfect and fun and safe.Then, in an instant, it’s dark.Safety no longer exists and you realise everything you have around you isn’t assured.People won’t always be there, and you have to learn how to cope with a huge chunk of your heart torn out.
If that was how I’d felt about Grandad Cain, how the hell did Nan deal with Grandad Trevor being gone?I had never been oblivious to her pain, I just didn’t want to deal with it.I could never experience the loss of him as intensely as she or my mum did because I chose not to be close to him or to Nan.By leaving Italy as young as I did, I’d also put a divide between me and my parents.It was a bit different with them because I stayed in touch with them, but there was some warped logic in my mind that if I got used to not being around them, it would be easier when they passed.It didn’t matter that I knew that wouldn’t truly be the case, but I was happy to con myself for as long as I could.
It seemed, though, the con was over now.
As if a switch had been flicked, words finally began to pour out on the page.
Grandad,
I’ve been thinking a lot lately.Since I came to see Nan.Well, I tried not to think at first, but I’ve been forced to take a look at the last few years from a different point of view.
