As I lie restless unable to sleep tonight, I turn to my blog, my emotional lifeline, to try to make some sense of the nonsensical, the pain.
I’m so used to writing posts to empower as I share my tips on overcoming adversity/conflict offering solutions and how-to’s yet here, I’m afraid, I have none.
I possess no answers, no inkling of comprehension. Of understanding how the world turns.
The last few days has felt the hardest of my life. Unbearable almost…As if I was swimming against the tide, the deep sea thick like treacle, every stroke a burden. I’m bobbing up as best I can, but mostly I’m drowning. In sorrow. I need to grieve though. To feel like this. To wail. I didn’t know it was possible to cry as much as I am. I fooled myself a tear quota would kick in, but three days in and the sea I speak of is made of salty tears. A friend told me tears help mend a broken heart.
Every single thought since Wednesday night has been consumed with thoughts of you: my beautiful Auntie Zak, my second mum, my Proti Goumera (best woman at my Greek Wedding), my son Xander’s godmother, my honorary sister, confidante and best friend.
The one who always told me to rise above pettiness, buy the flipping shoes, eat the damn pizza, keep strong and accept all that you cannot change. I can’t accept this though. That you have gone. I cannot bare a world without my auntie in it.
I hold on tightly to the memories, re-watching vlogs she appears in, our holiday when we visited her in Marbs, Facebook pictures new and old and crinkled ones from albums with me, a babe in her arms. It’s odd to even refer to ‘memories’ as such, when we were together just days ago. Sunday saw us sit and talk for hours, your hands in mine. You would be the one I’d call now for support. The one who buoyed me up last year when trauma hit.
…The months we knew were likely to be your last did nothing to prepare nor relieve the shock of your passing. You fought and fought and never feared. I’ve never known courage like it. Unimaginable bravery. You always believed you stood a chance, that cancer wouldn’t beat you.
When we last met, I questioned whether you felt down about your illness and you looked up startled, “What do you mean by ‘down’?”. You didn’t believe this was the end.
The day after you passed, the sunset was like no other. The sun you loved so much and lived for pierced through the broken clouds as bold as can be and it’s jagged rays danced across my face, gently kissing my cheeks. I filmed it on my phone so as not to forget. I felt you then. I feel you know. I can hear your voice. Your wicked laugh. You complimenting my berry coloured nails, advising me to keep my hair dark and straight…You words on Sunday that you loved me and can’t wait to visit us in Windsor, to see our new home. All that mattered to you was your family. To have us all around you.
You loved my boys as if they were your own. So much so, I’ve never known a godmother and godson to bond like you two did. Thick as thieves, besotted with one another. Alexander was your son.
Oh Zak, the lives you touched and continue to touch through us all: your nephews, nieces, god kids, sisters, brother and everyone who met you feel transformed by your presence. You love of life, food, fashion and beauty inspired us all. You epitomised glamour and transformed a room.
I can still smell your Chanel Mademoiselle perfume now, your scent… and I can see your sparkling diamonds catching the Spanish light…I miss your devilish sense of humour, the fact you’d always say it like it was, your jewel-coloured clothes, boot collection and famous white jeans.
Most of all I’ll remember the love, the deep, unwavering, unconditional love you freely gave to all your family and friends. The nurse said she’d never seen so many fill a room to say goodbye. To hold your hand. To never leave your side.
We never will.
I love you Zak, so much my heart is broken. Until we meet again, sleep tight the sweetest of angels, Yiayia is with you now and heaven feels lucky to have you.
I know you’re never far. Always in our hearts x