My Soulmate Died Eight Months After We Met, But My Grief Still Matters
It’s always nerve-wracking to meet a boyfriend’s mum for the first time. You go through the usual anxieties: what shall I wear? Should I bring a present? Will she like me? What will we talk about? I went through all of these thoughts when I first made the trip to see my boyfriend’s mum. I made sure I looked presentable and stopped at a florist to buy her a pot of spring daffodils on the way. It wasn’t unusual, apart from the fact that I went alone because my boyfriend was dead. In fact a few days earlier, I’d discovered his decaying body three days after his death and, I realise now, I was in shock.
At least we had plenty to talk about. To begin with, we had to go over the details of his death – I’d found him on his bed in the shack where he lived alone on the moors. We thought he might have died of a heart attack but it didn’t account for the blood. We wondered if it had been a brain aneurysm. We didn’t know.
We discussed the fact that they wouldn’t let her go to the mortuary to see his body. I told her as gently as I could that she really wouldn’t want to see it – the image haunts me still. Then there were coffins to choose and announcements to write for the local press.
“How do you want to refer to Paul?” she asked. “Partner, boyfriend?”
We’d been together for less than eight months and most of our time had been spent blissfully content away from the rest of the world. The truth was I had no idea what to call him.
I remember the moment so vividly, sitting there wondering what to say, wanting to confer with someone but knowing that the person I wanted to confer with was dead. We’d been together for less than eight months and most of our time had been spent blissfully content away from the rest of the world. The truth was I had no idea what to call him. We weren’t married or living together. He wasn’t my spouse or my partner. ‘Boyfriend’ seemed ridiculous – he was 53 and a giant of a man.
“Soulmate?” I offered....
