The first time

You can’t stay in your corner of the Forest waiting for others to come to you. You have to go to them sometimes.

Winnie the Pooh

 

SEPT 2018

So… here we go.

Being here is a tiny bit scary. A bit like a child’s first day at school. It means everything I write is now out in the big wide world.

But I wanted to do a bit of an introduction. The good thing about writing is you can stay pretty anonymous, which works when you have a face only a mother could love!

This blog is about a film, based on real people, in real life. No rose tinted glasses, no trying to make people better than they really are. We all have our good points and not-so-good points, so hiding away or kidding yourself that things are always perfect doesn’t help.

I want to talk about the first time I met her. I ran a call centre and she came for an interview, five feet tall, perfect smile and big blue eyes. It was a cold October day and I found myself staring and not listening to her talk. She got the job… Obviously… But I had to make the notes up as I couldn’t remember anything.

I don’t want to talk about all of it, all the highs and particularly all the lows… Well, not just yet.

But I would like to say I am really proud and humbled by the people who have helped me with this film project up to this point and now, even if the film didn’t happen and this blog is about what might have been, that’s ok. The ride has been fill-your-pants exciting anyway.

So the posts on here will tell you a little bit about my ex-girlfriend. She is not an ex because we had a plate throwing argument, countless expletives, and keys scratches down the car, nor because six months of silence and separate bedrooms caused us to drift apart.

She died.

There… it is out there at the start.

We had gone through a bad spell for a while, but that’s normal for everyone. Things you find endearing at first become irritating, like a voice in your head that starts quietly and ends up shouting. Her behaviour became more erratic and I became less tolerant.

And then we finished. It was all over. Kaput.

About a week later, she rang me, said sorry, and begged for us to go on holiday and see if we could sort it out.

And then we weren’t finished.

We came back from holiday with a tan and the last words she said to me before I went home was she loved me and the last CD she played was one I had made for her. I didn’t realise these would be a set of “lasts.” She simply went to sleep and never woke up.

Her work rang me the next morning to say she had not come in and her phone was switched off. Expecting to find her snoring like a contented pig and thinking tea and toast would be enough, I went around her flat.

But she had died in her sleep.

I went to see her in the chapel of rest, looking like a porcelain doll, and made her a promise I would do “the right thing.”

This is just keeping that promise.

I wanted people, ahead of the release of the film, to know a bit more about the story and what we were like.

I hope you not only enjoy them, but get involved. There are a number of ways you can do this.

Promote the story through your own social media.

Tell me your experiences with loss.

Maybe you are a musician.

Maybe you are an actor.

Or maybe you know someone who is.

This project is collaborative and therefore, if nothing else, stay for the ride and keep on reading.

Get in touch.

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