Footprints in my Heart

Some people come into our lives and quickly go, while others stay and leave footprints in our hearts and we are never the same

Today was meant to be a happy post. The second part of Paying it Forward. I was meant to feel all elated, having spread unexpected happiness and joy. How very un-British. It was meant to be awesome.

It wasn’t.
A friend is dying.

I ugly cried into Teflon Man’s jumper. I then spent the morning trying not to cry at my friend, instead trying to be terribly British and stiff-upper-lipped, and strong for him as he sat in his chair, a yellow shadow of his usual self. All I wanted to do was puddle into a pool of tears. I’m rubbish at being British. But he was being so pragmatic and accepting that it would have been self-indulgent to sob about all that’s now not to be. So we cracked lame jokes that fooled no one. But there are no words.

His body is broken and my heart is in pieces.

He’s already using the past tense. 

The Pay It Forward biscuits can wait until next week. Today is for my friend, whose footsteps will forever foxtrot in my heart.

  

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17 thoughts on “Footprints in my Heart”

  1. I am so very sorry. I don’t understand this part of life and remain very much a child in my reactions to hearing news like this. Often times I will avoid the whole thing entirely out of my fears and awkwardness and terrible sadness. Bless you and your strong friendship.

    1. Thank you. It’s such a rubbish thing, dying. I want to stick my fingers in my ears and go ‘la-la-la-I’m-not-listening-so-it-can’t-be-happening. Or to stamp my foot and burst into tears and pout and the unfairness of it all. Yep, my default setting is definitely that of a child too.

  2. I’m so very, very sad for you for this loss. I know there are not enough words or never the right words to bring comfort at such a time. But I do hope you can allow yourself to cry buckets as often as you need to. Wishing I could give you a big hug.

  3. This is definitely the worst part of living…not even our own demise, but the demise of people we love and care about. It’s harder to watch that I think and to not be able to offer anything at all aside from your time and your love. I’m so sorry you have to travel this road with your friend right now, but even though you’re lousy at being British I can’t help but think he’s in fine hands with a friend like you to share this with. Take care of your friend and take care of yourself while taking care of your friend….crying into TM’s jumper sounds like a very good start. You need to make some room in your mind and heart for all the emotions you’re going to share with your friend and the new memories he’s going to make with you over the next little while. They may not be the memories you would have chosen to make with him, but I’m so very glad that both of you will have the chance to say all the things you need to and really treasure every little moment you have. Wishing you strength and much love across the pond…..

  4. I’ve always had a difficult time with death and how someone who has been so much a part of our lives can suddenly be out of our lives in a physical way. It’s especially hard to watch those we care about suffer and feel so helpless. You can only do what you’ve always done, hold his hand, love him as only you know how, hold onto your memories and remember that your world has been, and will continue to be, much richer because he has been a part of your life.

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