On this day 3 years ago my mum woke me up to tell me that my uncle had got worse during the night. He had been diagnosed with bowel cancer a couple of years ago and, more recently, with a brain tumor. Mum went, I chose to stay at home, going was too hard. So, the rest of the day was waiting. Waiting for news, waiting to wake up and discover it was all a horrible dream. Later on that night I was talking to my friends online and my other uncle, who was staying with us, said  not to say anything to my cousin because it would upset her. I thought he meant about my uncle getting worse. That night he made mushroom stroganoff. I couldn’t stand people laughing and joking around the table. It was like nothing was happening, which, although I wished it wasnt, I knew it was. That night and another meeting of depression and mushroom stroganoff has put me off for life, I won’t touch the stuff. Anyway, after dinner my uncle and cousin left for home and I was left trying to believe that if I wished hard enough that everything would be ok. That if I didn’t read another page of the book I was reading (My Sister’s Keeper) nothing would change. I slept in my mum’s bed that night, still holding on to the hope that everything would be ok, unaware that he had already died, I think hours before, I still don’t know for sure. The next day I woke up and put on laundry, cleaned the kitchen, washed dishes, tidied my room, anything I could do to keep busy. To keep my mind off of the worry. In the early afternoon I got a phone call from my mum. I don’t remember any of the conversation except for these words “the funeral director will be here soon”… I kept it together for the rest of the phone call with one words answers, ok’s and yes’s until she said goodbye and hung up. He was gone. It still makes me angry that that is how I found out and that no one actually sat me down and told me. I told my friends I had been talking to who did their best to comfort me. The rest of the day was spent crying, punching stuff and being furious about it all. I remember listening to MCR’s black parade album at full volume, choking out the lyrics with angry tears pouring down my face. Yes, definatly a typical emo moment if ever there was one but I think, in the circumstances, I can be forgiven. That night was new year’s eve. My brother and I sat in the living room with a glass each of champagne, watching edinburgh’s hogmany on tv. I was putting on a brave face the whole time. Worst night of my life. After that is a blur. A week of visiting my auntie and I don’t really know what else. Then there was the funeral. Then another blur. Then burying his ashes. Then more blurryness.

I don’t know how to end that story, probably because in real life it just kind of trailed off, getting gradually easier as the months and years went on, in fact, it’s probably still trailing off slightly. So yeah. I woke up and so much today is the same. For one, I’m reading a book. Two, I’m home alone with my brother. Three, my uncle and cousin are visiting and will be leaving tonight. Just please, don’t let it be mushroom stroganoff for dinner!!!!

xx