The Dead Friend Diaries: March 2021

Dearest Florence

That was a great roadtrip we went on last week. I hope you like your new home, I did hear you when you said to leave you there. It was hard to but I know you'll be well looked after there. What a great place that was!

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I wrote that back in September 2020, it's March now, International Women's day to be exact... on this day two years ago, I discovered that you'd died two weeks ago. Two fucking years! So much happened in a short time, that I can't help but reflect on wtf happened. I've read this blog several times, each time feeling a bit further along the grief trail. I sit here now wanting to shout out how I feel but can't because it will fuck things up again... then I think, why should I censor myself because other's noses will be put out of joint? I didn't do anything wrong, that has been long established but they think I did. No amount of swearing on my life will make them believe that, so why bother trying to justify myself to those people. They are people I thought highly of but revealed themselves to be less than friends. Friends do not do that to a friend. So to recap, you died and then four so-called close friends dumped me the same week we found out. All of it was based on manipulation and lies - I had done nothing wrong. I was left to grieve without my circle of friends, I was attacked and defamed.
With the FB memories popping up, I can see where I changed my profile pic to one of me and you and P commented and I wasn't allowed to tell her, I had to hide it from your really close friends. It makes me feel sick that one person tried to control who grieved for you, who was allowed to know 'they weren't even her friend'. How I was shunned at the funeral. Excluded from their wake. And for what? I want to shout it out and expose it for what it is but what's the fucking point? It won't bring you back and it won't undo what was done. I have to let it go. To a degree I had, after the trip to the Orkneys, I felt at peace for ages... then up pops these memories and the anger returns. Anger is valid, I wasn't permitted to mourn you. How is it so easy for people to believe the worse in me, when it was me they'd always turned to for help? That is some powerful glamour, one that isn't worth my energy fighting anymore. Those who count, know now what happened. Florence knows, she hasn't really left me. Back to the trip....

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I had always wanted to go to the Orkneys, it was a pilgrimage of sorts. I had no plan, other than to visit some sites on the way up that my sister hadn't seen before and be on Orkney for Mabon. Mabon is always the time of change for me. Weather was good. Every site we visited, I took a pic of you there. Orkney was as magical as I imagined and the hostel we stayed at was a place you'd have absolutely loved, plus the owner was crackers, like you. He had this great art room and I asked if I could leave you there, he was thrilled to give you pride of place on the shelf. I left a piece of my heart there, I left you there. That was me letting you go. You're still with me, I feel you around me more than ever... it was akin to scattering your ashes.