her strength somehow. It all conveyed the rawness of emotion that still hovered so close beneath the surface.
‘On the morning of her death, I had a first meeting with a very important client, so I was very distracted. My mother arrived to take care of her, as she had since she was small. Emily adored her grandma, but that morning she was clingy and fussy and didn’t want to go to her. I assured my mum she was teething and asked if she would be willing to take her later in the afternoon to her swimming class. Selfishly, I’d wanted my daughter worn out so that when I got home, I could put her straight to bed, so I could stay up late to finish the work that I knew I would have after the meeting. As I got ready to leave, Emily clung even tighter to me, her little chubby arms locked around my neck so tightly as she screamed, tears running down her reddened cheeks as she begged me to stay.’
Sophie started to weep openly as she continued, the memory still so hard to recount.
‘Eventually, still screaming, I managed to unpeel her from me and kissed her gently on her little downy head, saying, “Mummy’ll be home soon. You’ll see Mummy soon.” I handed her to my mother as she continued to wail. Mum just shooed me out the door. And grabbing my bag I didn’t even look back, I walked out to my car, and all I could hear as I walked down the path was her little tiny voice screaming, “Mummy! Mummy! Please, Mummy!”’
Alex reached forward and grabbed her hand, but still didn’t turn away from her pain, he just offered his strength, and she was grateful for that.
Pulling out a tissue and blowing her nose, Sophie continued, ‘Why didn’t I turn around? Why didn’t I go back? Why didn’t I!? It was as if she knew, and I didn’t listen. It was as if she knew she would never see me again.’
Sophie’s trembling hand lifted the wine to her lips. She could finish it now; the worst was over. The terrible guilt was always the worst part of her story.
‘My mother drove to the swimming baths, but she never reached them. On the way there, a truck driver looking at his phone because he was lost and trying to read a map, looked down too long and missed the light and ploughed right into my mum’s car. They said it was instantaneous, that both of them were taken quickly, but I think that’s something they just say so you won’t worry about it.’ Her voice cracked again as the emotion got the better of her. ‘For months afterwards, all I would hear was Emily’s little voice screaming, “Mummy! Mummy! Please, Mummy!’ in my head, and I will never get over that. I will never ever be the same person I was before because of that one moment, that terrible memory.
‘And the weird thing is, when people talk about grief, they talk about it like it’s an illness, as if you have the flu, as if one day you’ll just feel better if you wait long enough. What I’ve realised is I’m never going to feel better. This is just an emptiness I’ll live with for the rest of my life. And I’ve come to accept that. It’s a shadow that’s always with me and always will be.
‘What I don’t know is how to go on living, how to move forward from hearing her voice echoing in my head. How do I find something, a reason to live, a reason to keep doing this? I don’t mean I feel suicidal, though I’ve had my moments there too. What I mean is, all the joy, all the light in my life, has gone, and the fear of never knowing that light again is my deepest nightmare. My mother was my best friend, and my darling girl was the joy of my life. I wish I could find my way out of the darkness so I could feel happiness again, feel anything again. I can’t even imagine what that would be like.’
Alex squeezed her hand. ‘Oh, Sophie, I do not know what to say. You have suffered more than I can imagine. I have no words of wisdom for you. I’ve never lived through something like that. But I want you to know that you have my friendship if you want it.’