Shades of mourning

It's hard to be brave when you're suffering from grief and shock. I find myself shivering uncontrollably, feeling nauseous. My head swims as if I have flu or am about to faint. Just when I think I'm OK, and entering a good patch when I can return to life as normal, I find my eyes welling up and my breath gusting with sobs. I fear going out anywhere in case I can't control my tears, or feel ill, and wish I had prescription sunglasses. My Transitions lenses don't work in gloomy weather such as we're having today.

Today, the vision I had of the grey umbilical cord attaching me to Louise, as if we were twins in the womb, is haunting me. What did it mean? Does it mean I could have sent her healing energy through it, and because I didn't, she died? Were we astral twins, connected in some way unknown to science? Time and time again, I feel we were connected in far deeper ways than just friendship. Perhaps that is why I feel so utterly bereft and no amount of 'chin up, keep smiling' remarks can work.

My return ticket to Truro sits in the ticket machine in Paddington station. If I left now, I would be too late to catch the 12.06. I don't know if I can still get the return half from the machine once the outward journey time has expired, to use if I go down on Monday.

I sent a text to my friend's husband last night telling him how much he had upset me and saying that even though he is grieving, he should have respect for the feelings of others and not lash out at everyone who is trying to help him. I asked him not to keep calling me, and he hasn't, and this has made me feel a little calmer. I am desperately sorry for him, but can't forgive him for saying things which, for two days, caused me to doubt the kind of friendship I had had with Louise. That was dreadful and it rocked me to my foundations. For those two days I was numb and unable to cry because I suddenly thought that all along she hadn't really liked me or been a true friend. Now I have managed to dismiss those thoughts but, as a consequence, I have started grieving again. Now I understand why the Victorians wore mourning clothes for a year. It was a way of saying, 'I've suffered a bereavement and I'm feeling upset and fragile so please treat me with care and understanding.' Nowadays, if you dressed like that, people would think you were a goth, an emo or a vampire. I am wearing brown. It's a colour that is sombre without attracting attention. It's the colour of autumn. And of the earth.