Lost

About 2 weeks ago we marked what should have been Evie’s 18th birthday. It wasn’t a birthday party or a celebration, more the chance to remember her. But it was also that enormous milestone that I had been dreading. It has taken me this long to reach a point where I can write something about it. The delay wasn’t caused by pain, but a lack of understanding of what I had felt; am still feeling.

We drew together the people that were there for us when Evie died, the ones that didn’t abandon us, the ones that didn’t change the subject when we talked about her. From an objective point of view, the day did what it was planned to do. We ate, we drank, we talked about her. The chef that we brought in cooked her favourite meals - scallops, salmon, fillet steak and Eton Mess. We drank 23 bottles of wine from her birth year, 2004 and every drop was her. The murder mystery was more bonkers that I had anticipated but I think that Evie would have had a major chuckle at what was going on.

In some strange way I had expected some sort of fulfilment (most definitely not the right word, but it escapes me at the moment) but instead I got something totally different. I got emptiness. And excruciating pain. Evie wasn’t there and her absence screamed loudly at me all day. It was almost like an out-of-body experience. It was like I was observing the day from somewhere else. The business of the day kept me occupied but not distracted. It was almost as if I had a voice shouting at me “what are you doing?”. It took me a while to work it out but by creating this event to mark her birthday, I was inviting her home. I was calling to her. I wanted her there and in some maddening way I was waiting for her to walk through the door. But she didn’t come. She didn’t join us and I just felt utterly lost all over again, just as I had done back in the spring of 2018. That rabbit in the headlights feeling where you can’t move, can’t think, can’t understand. I felt the body armour around me, protecting me from everyone else. Only now, two weeks later, can I appreciate and understand what I had been feeling. I have started to feel again, only now the loss is dark once again. The black dog is back, sat with me, begging me to follow him. The last time I really struggled with depression I had the anti-depressants to help me through it. Not this time. This time it is simple resilience that I need.

And then, last night, after far too much to drink at an awards dinner in London, I broke through the darkness and a chink of light shone. It started with booking into the hotel and finding that I was on the 13th floor. Then at the fun casino, I placed my $10 bet on ‘13’ at the roulette table and thumbed my nose at fate and depression, almost saying “come on then, do your worst”. The little silver ball dropped into 13 and the croupier placed $1,850 of chips on my little pile. It felt like Evie was saying “It’s okay Daddy, I’ve got you”. The body armour dropped away and I felt a little freer once again.

Milestones are always hard, but this was altogether different. The only way that I can explain it is to say that on top of the feelings of pain, there was disbelief, shock and an overwhelming sensation of being shut down. I didn’t ‘feel’ anything. I can only presume that it was some kind of mental health self-protection mechanism. Patsy and I each needed a rock to lean on, a friend to be there should we not be able to hold it together. For me it is always David, one of Evie’s godfathers. On 22nd September David rang to say that both he and his wife had gone down with a nasty bout of covid and couldn’t come. For me, the mental shut down was the only way I had of coping at all that day, I can see it now for what it was, but at the time I was bemused. Finally, two weeks later the darkness is lifting a little and I am starting to get a grip on what happened. It’s a reasonably safe bet to assume that something similar will happen on her 21st birthday, but at least next time I’ll have a better idea of what to expect.

So …. did the 18th birthday event work? Sort of. For me it was about making sure that the day didn’t just slip passed without anyone noticing. People forgetting your dead child is the cruellest of blows. I wanted people to say her name. For dinner we had 18 people sat around tables eating her favourite food and talking about her. Eighteen people for whom being part of a day to remember her was important and for recognising how important it was to us as well. And I guess that is what it was all about. The emotional cost on us was high; for me the highest that it has been in some time, but Evie is worth it. For her 21st though, I think a different approach will be needed as I have no desire to repeat that experience.