It’s Saturday evening, at home. In my sitting room, the curtains are closed to shut out the cold evening. You, my partner, have been gone for four and a half years. I’m about to watch some tv. This room was your favourite room, at one end your old roll top desk, its little pigeon holes full of papers, sketch books, your diary and wallet, painting brushes, a brass compass, photos, two Victorian oil lamps. Clutter. The wall to ceiling bookcase is packed with diverse books, maps, art books and handsome, hard-backed folio editions of biographies, novels, Beano cartoon books, literary quotation and poetry books – you always wanted to learn more. Crammed onto the top shelf is a miniature Victorian pop-up children’s theatre you bought for the grandchildren.All at once, I get a strong sense of……………what if you came in just now….and looked around your favourite room, as it has become, since you died ? I’ve sold the oil lamps, I’ve given away many of the books, I’ve cleared out the desk so it’s tidy and ordered. I wanted space, to inhabit this room as it is now, without you. You would recognise Max the dog asleep on the sofa, the same though older. Would you feel hurt, dismayed ? At my disloyalty to you, my disregard of what was important to you, what defined you. If you came in just now, would we be remote because I’ve changed ?Now I make the decisions, and plans, I look to other people for friendship.Your unexpected visit leaves me feeling strange for the rest of the evening.

October 22, 2016 at 3:24 am
I read this lovely piece and think of my future. My partner is healthy, thank heavens, but he is 14 years older than me and had open heart surgery two years ago. I have always assumed that I will spend my elder years alone.
Since my partner keeps the basement family room looking something between a workshop and an obstacle course, I imagine some day I will also, regretfully, clean out his clutter. It makes me sad to think of it. But it also makes me much more accepting of his clutter now, because it means he is still in my life.
March 9, 2016 at 4:14 pm
Thank you for your comments. Glad you found it meaningful. Somehow my experience of being visited just arrived on its own, rather than me pondering the subject of loss. It felt quite powerful.
March 8, 2016 at 4:35 pm
I found reading this so moving. Such a sense of immediacy and read mindfulness. It made we wonder about those I’ve lost, of what they would say, how they would react. Thank you for sharing this heartfelt focus, and all the enlightening perspectives it brings. Such food for thought.
October 24, 2016 at 11:32 am
Thank you for your response and appreciation, glad it spoke to you. My experience of the event felt so immediate at the the time – unpremeditated seemed to come from nowhere.
March 7, 2016 at 10:56 pm
A lovely tender post – somehow it has a grounding effect.
October 24, 2016 at 11:48 am
Glad you found it tender. Liked that you found it grounding.