“legacy is planting seeds in a garden you never get to see”

– Hamilton, Lin-Manuel Miranda


this is going to be my last post on this blog, although my last proper post was months ago. I’d like to leave this up indefinitely but I’m spooked somebody would identify me and I’d be in trouble, so in a month’s time I’m going to save all my posts and delete my account. I just didn’t want anyone to worry where I’d gone.

(where I’ve gone is a good place. or I guess it’s the same place but a different time, because it’s been almost a year now since Flo died. I think of it like with collagen remodelling at the site of a wound, where new material fills up the hole; and the tissue never regains its prior strength but it has other properties now, unique to scar tissue. I don’t feel that Flo-shaped hole in the matrix of my life because the content of my life has changed so much since her death; and I’ll never have her arms around me again and that knowledge still destroys me but the good I’ve got since her death have come from consciously acting more like her. I still think about her every day and I still cry over her a lot, and I consider that evidence of scarring, but it’s okay! scar formation is the mechanism of wound healing! I’m not scarred because I am wounded, I’m scarred because I’m healing.)

I didn’t really know what this project would be when I started it. now I’m finishing it I see it as a journal, the first and only one I’ve ever kept. this site has been a record of my experience of bereavement, a means of plotting my messy non-linear course through grief, a perceived channel of communication to the friend I lost, a way to remember her and share my memories to spread appreciation for this one-of-a-kind girl and the injustice of her fate, a kind of prayer, a kind of catharsis, and a kind of dumping ground for all the terrible emotional garbage that was making me weird to be around. and being around other people with similar experiences on here, reading their posts, made me feel like I wasn’t so weird and isolated after all. I can’t express how grateful I am for the messages of encouragement I received up in here. I can only hope something I wrote helped somebody else back in the same way.

thank you for having me. and Flo.

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6 thoughts on ““legacy is planting seeds in a garden you never get to see”

  1. While I’m sorry to see you go, I’m happy that you’ve reached a place in time that allows you to leave on your own terms. I still think of your work from time to time – it’s haunting and beautiful – and hope that you treasure what you’ve accomplished. I hope for your continued healing and good luck on your journey. xx

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  2. I too am sorry to see you go, but I want you to know, you helped me so much. All I did, was search grief because I had no one else, my partner in everything, the one I’d have gone to, was gone.
    You’re so full of youth. Live a beautiful life as you and Flo deserve that.
    This last two weeks have brought a new level of acceptance, a loss of the desire to die, and we’ll, I painted my nails bright red, and colored my silver. I’m choosing life.
    I understand, it will never go away, but neither will Mel, because she’ll always be in my heart. I just haven’t been able to write about this progress yet. Partly because I do fear Christmas day, the stroke 1 year anniversary. Don’t think I’ll let myself be alone that day.
    You and Flo helped one person feel so much less lost. Thank you for giving me something to cling to for a while.
    Peace and love be yours, always.

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    • dearest far off friend – I’ve really loved having a dialogue with you, and your writing always moves me because we’ve had these parallel experiences. you’ve helped me every bit as much as you feel I’ve helped you, and thank you for saying it, that makes me glad I’ve done this. I’m so glad you’ve been feeling better the past few weeks, I hope it only continues up and up.

      I’ll say something else I never got the chance to put in a post – I really believed at 19 years old the best days of my life had to be behind me, because I thought it would be such a discredit to the memory of my friend if my life was better after she died than before. now I think, when you read in the history books that the loss of a loved one ended somebody’s period of active work, you know how important that person was to them; but when you read that the loss of a loved one was the catalyst for somebody’s contributions to history, you know that their lost love was important to everything that happened in that field after that. a man called Dashrath Das Manjhi lost his wife because they had to go around a mountain range to get to the nearest hospital, so he spent the next 22 years after her death digging a path through the mountain, decimating the journey time and probably saving countless lives. what I’m saying is, it is not blasphemy for you and me to live excellent lives after this – it’s the natural result of having the strength of two people. okay maybe that strength is wobbly right now, okay maybe next year, our beautiful future lives are our sisters’ legacies.

      I quite honestly love you, and I’ll be thinking about you and sending love (when you think you can feel it coming from the other side of the Atlantic, that’s me) all the time and especially on Christmas day. xxx

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