Last October, my dear friend died. She was like an auntie to me. We originally met as neighbours thirty four years ago. She and her sister were living, with their cats, in a beautiful old house in the suburbs, with a view of the sea from the top floor. I was renting one of the flats in the house next door! We met at the bus stop, we chatted about our cats, the arts and the weather. And we bonded. We also became close with another older lady who was living in a nearby nursing home. 

My three friends. My three older ladies. My three honorary aunties. 

I moved away to rent in different places, different countries. I studied, I changed careers, I travelled, got engaged, married, had my children, moved again,  separated, divorced… and all that life ‘stuff’. During all these decades, my ladies were a constant in my life. They never moved and we never lost touch. 

They remained supportive and kind and I hope they would say the same about me. Maybe the fun and closeness we shared was a little easier because we weren’t family? No familial complications - just a friendship that lasted decades and was full of love.

And now, since last October, they have all gone. I miss them. I especially miss the celebration we had during Christmas time. And the birthday get-togethers - always a week or two after each other’s birthday but actually that only added to the fun. I miss the walks and the chats, the singing and the laughs,  the endless cups of tea. I miss the nursing home visits over the last three years. Even though dementia is a cruel illness, our visits were still heart-warming, I was a regular visitor and I enjoyed that quiet time of chatter (often very silly chats but always sweet) and that warm feeling of connection.

What I find hard is, I can’t explain to others what their deaths mean to me, the true impact. I have used the term ‘honorary auntie’ and ‘dear friend’ but even those terms don’t seem to be enough. I think back to when my dad and mum died and people were so kind with their condolences, cards and thoughtful messages. I am now going to a lot of funerals of my friends’ parents and I know how special it is to feel supported. But I don’t have a ‘proper’ label on my friend’s death. I find it almost impossible to express my grief because it’s not an ‘obvious’ grief. It’s a private grief. Perhaps even a lonely sort of grief.

I write this in case any Moodscoper is coping with the loss of a loved one and, like me, isn’t sure how to give this loss a name? Perhaps ‘dear friend’ is good enough? Wasn’t I blessed to have had these three friends in my life.  

Three wise, warm, witty, wonderful women… may they rest in peace.

Salt Water Mum x

A Moodscope member