The earring.

We all find attachments to things that we can’t explain, that bring us peace knowing their safe.

I’ve never worn my engagement ring everyday, even before he passed,  I always worried it would get damaged in work or lost,  but I know it’s kept safe in our home when not on my finger.

I’ve taken to wearing it on my right hand now,  because when I wear it occasionally I’m asked when the wedding is,  or about him,  and sometimes I tell the truth, madly I think it’s  so I can see their look of shock. But I’ve started a new job now (same company but a lower position,)  management know my situation and reason for changing positions, however I don’t want one of the first impressions staff get of me to be “oh better not upset her then”, or use it as an excuse for me talking sternly at them for not doing their job correctly.

I don’t want my loss to be who I’ve become.

So the earring, the earring was a weird thing for me,  I had an emotional attachment to it,  but in a bad way,  I couldn’t bring myself to take it off myself, and hoped one day soon it would be gone,  because like a scar I saw it daily and remembered the moment my friend (would have been sister-in-law,) attached it to me.

I want to write about what happened, because it feels cathartic,  and I’ve struggled to find someone to connect to through all my googling and outings, so possibly someone else may find relief in hearing the random ways they are coping isn’t madness.  However,  I struggle to talk to people face to face because I’m so matter of fact about it all.  So I can’t bring myself to go into full details,  because I don’t want people who know me to go,  oh, I know this girl.

Let’s just say though,  he died very suddenly of sudden adult death syndrome. It was so sudden in fact that he’d spoken to a friend briefly before his death,  telling them he was happy and excited as he had a big day ahead of him, there were no signs seen.

I was away when he passed and arrived back just as the police said they were ready for me to go to the hospital, with his younger siblings to Identify his body.

After having a breakdown in the little room they had placed him in,  the police woman tried to get me to leave,  I wandered back in and took the earring off him,  a small black hoop.  Thinking it was some type of connection to him,  the sister transferred it straight into my ear.

After 5 months it fell out. It was after a night out I realised,  and a smile crossed over me. I can only assume it came out whilst I sat on a wall kissing some skinny long-haired student in-between sharing bites of his burger at 4am.

This small thing that reminded me daily of needing to hold myself together on the journey,  the unknowing and then seeing him peacefully lying there wrapped in purple, associated itself with so much hurt for me.

I feel a step closer to normality with it gone. But wonder if I’d purposefully put pressure on this item,  told myself it was a bad thing, and now I’ll press those memories onto some new object.




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