It’s difficult to imagine it’s four years since Diane left. It never seems to get any easier to deal with her not being here. Maybe it never will.
The anniversary of her passing every February 6 will always be difficult. It still feels so cruel on her. She did not deserve to suffer the way she did in those final weeks. No-one deserves that. In those final days, she knew her light was dying, that the flame was flickering now and would soon dim and go out. Luckily she slept much as the end drew near, hopefully dreaming of being well, of being happy.
Who knows what we dream about in that moment when we are caught between life and death. I hope she is still dreaming now, four years on and forever more.
The emptiness I feel because she is no longer here beside me is just a part of it. Add to that all the guilt – the belief that I could have done more, could have cared more and done more when she was there beside me, that is another part of it. Then there's the thought that I should have been able to fix her. That's what I was there for and I was helpless, hopeless, unable to stop it taking her from me. Finally, there’s the sorrow I feel imagining the pain she must have suffered.
Every February 6 all these emotions start swirling around with an extra intensity, forming an emotional maelstrom that leaves the brain in a mush for a couple of days. Most other days, the waters are calmer and while the same emotions exist at all times, they only come together in that kind of 'perfect storm' on notable days and anniversaries.
But it’s OK. That’s the way it is and that’s probably the way it will always be. In a way, I hope it is. I want these emotionally-charged days when everything I feel and have ever felt for Diane comes together in a moment of shared intensity. It proves she is still alive in my heart and soul. It proves we'll stay together, forever.