When our daughter died in 2018, it was the worst thing that had ever happened to us. I thought that was the bottom, that nothing else could take us lower. I didn’t know it was just the start.
After losing her, it was like something cracked open and let in every bit of bad luck going. People we were close to, and I mean really close to, started dying too. Family members, I couldn’t have got through that time without. One by one, gone.
We never got a break from it. No chance to catch our breath, no time to even get our heads round one loss before the next one came. We didn’t “heal” or “move on”; we just learned to function with this constant lump in our chests. The grief never went anywhere. It’s still there now.
I lost faith completely. In God, angels, anything like that. I couldn’t. How could you, when all the people you love are taken?
And then there was the weird thing with the songs.
A couple of songs started following us after Francesca died. The main one? Live Forever by Oasis.
Before all this, I couldn’t even tell you the last time I’d heard it. But after 2018, it was everywhere. On the radio when I got in the car. Playing in shops. On Spotify playlists I hadn’t made. On the TV. It just kept turning up, and every time I’d hear it, I’d think: “Live forever? Aye right. Everyone we know’s dead.”
It felt like it was taking the piss. Like some sick joke.
But it never stopped. No matter where we were or what we were doing, happy, sad, stressed, laughing, there it was again. At first, it wound me up. I’d roll my eyes and switch it off. I didn’t want a reminder.
Then, over time, I started noticing it in moments that weren’t bad. A nice day out. A funny night with friends. A birthday. It was still there. Not just tied to the sad stuff.
I don’t know what changed, but one day I was looking at our child, Leo, and it hit me. There had to be something still looking out for us. You don’t get given something that perfect if there’s nothing out there. And just like that, my heart felt lighter and my strong faith returned.
That didn’t mean everything suddenly made sense, or that I understood why we’d lost the people we had. It just meant I could believe again, even a little bit. That maybe God hadn’t completely given up on us. He just had another purpose for us. One I’ll maybe never even understand.
And maybe the song wasn’t mocking us after all.
Now, when I hear Live Forever, I don’t turn it off. I just let it play. I still think about everyone we’ve lost, but it’s not in that sharp, gut-punch way it used to be. It’s more like a reminder they’re still with us in some way.
I’m not pretending I’m fine. I’m not pretending time “heals.” It doesn’t. I still get angry. I still miss them every day. There are still times it hits me out of nowhere, and I feel like I can’t breathe.
But there are also moments now where I can see that, as much as we’ve been through, we’re still here. And that has to mean something. So if that song keeps following me about for the rest of my life, fine. I’ll take it. Because, for whatever reason, it’s still turning up. And so am I.
As always, for Francesca and Leo xxx
FOR FRANCESCA 