THE MOMENT IS NOW
On Friday 08 August 2025, I lost one of my oldest and closest friends. I am still in shock. How can this be true? In the space of a heartbeat, she simply ceased to exist.
How is this possible?
The learning of the news becomes a moment in time you never forget. The sights and sounds and smells of that moment, where you learn something irreversible and shocking, stay with you forever.
It was an ordinary Sunday morning when I found out. I was vacuuming our old stairwell with its well worn carpets, scratched to pieces by my feisty little cat, when her name flashed up on my phone. It had been ages since we spoke and I knew the phone call would last hours so I thought to myself, I’ll just finish the vacuuming. Then I can sit in the big sunny bay window and chat for hours. How lovely that will be! My heart felt warm at the thought of catching up on kids and grandkids. Families and friends. Love and loss. Work and worries. I knew for sure it would be a very long phone call.
I was so wrong
When I didn’t pick up, a few minutes later her daughter was calling me on messenger. Twice. I have never had calls from her daughter before. My heart stopped. Something was very wrong. The vacuuming was of no consequence.
It is the most ordinary of moments that can turn into memories etched into your heart forever. As I sobbed, No, No, No into the phone, a little part of me died. The connection to someone so dear to me just severed in a few words.
There is no pain like it
Loss brings the past into the present. All of a sudden, years worth of memories start flooding through. The sound of her voice, the warmth of her hug, her big infectious smile.
It’s like there’s a big invisible thread that pulls us back through time to the beautiful moments and they burst forth, full of colour and sensations. And it’s bittersweet because we were so lucky to have those moments but now they’re gone and no more moments can be had.
“Oh Sweetie!” she would say when anything was hard. I could hear her saying it right in that moment. The old is new again. The person we love is suddenly front and centre. Those 35 years all swirling into an amorphous whirlpool of memories and feelings. All awash over every little hair that starts standing on edge.
When you’ve known someone so very long, time and distance mean nothing. The bond is there. You know for sure, at the back of your mind, that they’re always there. That whenever there is big news to share, there’s someone to share it with. And then they’re gone. There is no more sharing to be had. All the dreams evaporate in a puff of smoke.
Grief is solitary
All those memories and feelings are unique connections with the person you love. They belong to just the two of you. Feelings nobody else really understands. Everyone who loves her is in their own little bubble of grief and we all yearn to be near each other. To find the people who also recognise her voice in any crowd. To bring our bubbles near each other so it feels a little less lonely. So we can remember together. But sometimes, when you’re far away, you’re in a bubble all by yourself and there’s nothing to be done except soak in the grief and be flooded with the memories of beautiful times together.
Photos become a tether
The first thing I did when I heard the news, was to start hunting for photos of her. To see her face. To see us together. To find evidence that our times together were real. When we were so young and happy and beautiful together. When life was still filled with so many possibilities. Photos are all that is left to go with the memories. Taking photos in the moment always feels awkward. Do I look old? Is my hair a mess? How do I get the lighting right? But then when they’re gone, we just don’t care. We want that evidence that love existed.
To stare into the face of a memory
I flew up to Canberra on Thursday for the funeral. To bring my bubble of grief next to those who also remembered her. How very much I regret that I was flying to her funeral, and not to her home for a cup of tea and a chat that lasted well past midnight.
Death is a reminder that we don’t have time. There are absolutely no second chances. We can’t put off the things we want to do and the connections we want to maintain. There is only now and this moment. And if we want to tell someone how much we love them, it is far, far better to do that when they’re still alive, rather than write it on a piece of floral notepaper to be placed in the coffin at the crematorium. A beautiful, beautiful gesture, but just not the same as seeing someone’s eyes when you tell them, I love you.
If ever we’re looking for a sign to do the thing, say the words, feel the feelings, take the leap., honour the moment, share the love – now is it. Tomorrow is just a concept. All we have is now. Take the now.
Comments
So very true x