20th November
20th November will forever be a date that is etched into my memory and this year it seems so much more real than it did last year. 2 years, 24 months, 104 weeks, 730 days, 17520 hours, 1051200 minutes, 63072000 seconds. It's a long time to be without you.
I've been dreading the thought of this weekend for months, trying to tell myself that its just another day without you and that the miss will be the same as every other day. But its not. On the 20th November 2015 everything turned upside down and two years on, it still feels wrong that we are all here living life without you.
A few weeks previously, you'd told me that you didn't think you would be here for much longer. You told me that I had to 'be sad for a while and then pick myself up, dust myself off and do everything in my power to make you proud.' We sat in your bed and you proceeded to give me a list of things I had to do for you, because you wanted to do them and didn't get the chance to. I distinctly remember the crack in your voice as you said you'd always be by my side (or sat on my shoulder) forever. And then you threw up and we never mentioned it again.
The day after, you went back into hospital and fell into a coma. I don't think I ever realised how serious it was until this day, partially because of how good you were at pretending to be okay, and also because I was in complete denial about the fact that you would ever leave.
Nothing, not even that conversation with you, could have ever prepared me for what actually happened in the next few weeks. Nothing could have ever prepared me for the numb feeling, for the emptiness, for the tears (and screams) that happened on that week after you left. I remember on the Friday, I was on the way home from school and I suddenly felt so sick and in my head I think I knew that something had happened. But it was you, the person who fought everything with such courage and determinism. So I thought it would be good news, I thought you'd have woken up and be about to text me some sort of sarcastic message about how your nurse had broken your phone charger or how the patients near you hated your Disney singing! About an hour later I got a message saying that you'd got your wings and the rest of that day is a complete blur. I mean, looking back all I managed to string together was a sentence that somewhat resembles 'no you can't go' before I sobbed into your hoodie for about 48 hours.
Losing your bestfriend at a young age is something that you never imagine to have to go through, at the age of 15 I stood at the front of a church FULL of people in Disney tops to read a prayer next to a coffin with my closest friend in. It's not fair. I've seen people cry unimaginable amounts of tears as we have said goodbye to her, I've watched her family unable to leave the church as it's the last time they will ever be in the same room as her, I've sat and sobbed with my friends as we tried to think of ways to bring her back. But nothing ever will.
Something I've learnt in the past two years is that grief is weird. It affects everyone differently. My friend Jess has been by my side holding my hand through absolutely everything in the past two years, from the funeral to the year anniversary to birthdays. And we deal with this in almost opposite ways. Whilst she sits there, cries throughout it all and then is somewhat okay after, I never cry and then end up in a horrific mood for days afterwards because I overanalyse the situation (and also the fact that I don't cry). For the first year I thought that this was a bad thing, and tried to force into the coping method that most other people seemed to fit, because I was almost certain that a lack of tears meant that I hadn't accepted it or even began to process the fact that she was gone. In reality, everyone deals with grief differently and its not a case of 'one way suits everyone'; I only wish someone had told me this two years ago.
This time last year I was sat in a hotel in Plymouth. I used to adore Plymouth, its a city on the sea and honestly I can't think of anything cooler than that. I literally cannot visit Plymouth anymore, and even the mention of the name makes me feel weird in my chest. Plymouth is just Rhi, everywhere I look I see something that reminds me of her and whilst I want to love the place, the thought of being there without her feels so wrong.
I have a video on my phone, it's of Rhi and I on the dodgems at some random pop up fun fair on Plymouth Hoe. In the video you can hear her infectious laugh, the laugh that quite literally filled the room and made everyone smile. After we went on those dodgems, she took me up the lighthouse on Plymouth Hoe - a story that I somehow manage to tell every time I'm asked for my favourite memory of her. As we get to the top of this lighthouse, the stairs disappear and Rhi is suddenly halfway up the most rickety wooden ladder to the top because "Em we can get cool selfies up here" and I mean I wasn't going to argue with an Instagram photo! We eventually made it and the photos are cute but in all honesty my favourite thing about this was her enthusiasm. Anyone who knew Rhi knew how passionate and determined she was to get what she wanted, and she managed to do it in a way that made you feel like it was your idea!! On this day, she decided she wanted to get to the top of a lighthouse and make me face my fear of heights in the process (and it worked as she told me so often.) A year later, I sat at the bottom of the lighthouse in the pouring rain and cried for about an hour because I couldn't deal with the fact that it had been a year without Rhi.
I honestly cannot believe that it has been two years since Rhi left us. It's gone so quickly but at the same time feels like a lifetime without her. Two years later, the pain of losing someone so close is still huge. Life has gone on – it has to, right? But it isn’t the same. I still expect to see her name pop up on my phone. To hear her laugh as she sang Loca the Pug over FaceTime at 1am. I miss our continuous countdowns to the next time we would see each-other. I miss sitting and watching Disney films, because she was the only person who ever liked them as much as me. I miss the pinky promises every single day. I miss FaceTime Fridays. I miss her laugh, her wisdom, and her positive attitude.
I miss you and love you forever and always, like we promised.
I am aware that parts of this probably don't even make sense, in all honesty I don't think I can even reread it. I didn't want to post this, until Jess told me that I've "summed up how everyone else is feeling." I've never really done anything like this before and the idea of having a blog makes me cringe a bit but I'm shit at emotions and this seemed like the easiest way to let everything out whilst contributing to the memory of Rhi - something that I promised her I would do. Thank you for reading this xxxxxx
Finally, I have to thank absolutely everyone who has been there for me over the past few years - whether you were sat by my side in that church in December 2015 or if you sent me a twitter message at any point during the past two years. I know Rhi asked so many people to 'look after me for her' which still makes me cry every time I hear it but I didn't expect SO MUCH love from everyone, especially The Wanted fanbase I love you all ;). My two most special thank yous are for Jess and Amy - two people who have grieved Rhi alongside me and most definitely got me through it. Jess you are by far the best friend I could ever ask for and I will never ever be able to thank you enough for being by my side and holding my hand through absolutely everything that the last two years have thrown at us. I most definitely haven't been the easiest to deal with (aka Plymouth last year) but you're incredible and I love you so much. Amy I completely see why Rhi adored you so much, you've become one of my best friends over the past year and a half and your strength will never fail to amaze me. Whilst it may have taken us a long long time to actually talk about Rhi, we got there and I am SO proud of us. I love you so much.
A few weeks previously, you'd told me that you didn't think you would be here for much longer. You told me that I had to 'be sad for a while and then pick myself up, dust myself off and do everything in my power to make you proud.' We sat in your bed and you proceeded to give me a list of things I had to do for you, because you wanted to do them and didn't get the chance to. I distinctly remember the crack in your voice as you said you'd always be by my side (or sat on my shoulder) forever. And then you threw up and we never mentioned it again.
The day after, you went back into hospital and fell into a coma. I don't think I ever realised how serious it was until this day, partially because of how good you were at pretending to be okay, and also because I was in complete denial about the fact that you would ever leave.
Nothing, not even that conversation with you, could have ever prepared me for what actually happened in the next few weeks. Nothing could have ever prepared me for the numb feeling, for the emptiness, for the tears (and screams) that happened on that week after you left. I remember on the Friday, I was on the way home from school and I suddenly felt so sick and in my head I think I knew that something had happened. But it was you, the person who fought everything with such courage and determinism. So I thought it would be good news, I thought you'd have woken up and be about to text me some sort of sarcastic message about how your nurse had broken your phone charger or how the patients near you hated your Disney singing! About an hour later I got a message saying that you'd got your wings and the rest of that day is a complete blur. I mean, looking back all I managed to string together was a sentence that somewhat resembles 'no you can't go' before I sobbed into your hoodie for about 48 hours.
Losing your bestfriend at a young age is something that you never imagine to have to go through, at the age of 15 I stood at the front of a church FULL of people in Disney tops to read a prayer next to a coffin with my closest friend in. It's not fair. I've seen people cry unimaginable amounts of tears as we have said goodbye to her, I've watched her family unable to leave the church as it's the last time they will ever be in the same room as her, I've sat and sobbed with my friends as we tried to think of ways to bring her back. But nothing ever will.
Something I've learnt in the past two years is that grief is weird. It affects everyone differently. My friend Jess has been by my side holding my hand through absolutely everything in the past two years, from the funeral to the year anniversary to birthdays. And we deal with this in almost opposite ways. Whilst she sits there, cries throughout it all and then is somewhat okay after, I never cry and then end up in a horrific mood for days afterwards because I overanalyse the situation (and also the fact that I don't cry). For the first year I thought that this was a bad thing, and tried to force into the coping method that most other people seemed to fit, because I was almost certain that a lack of tears meant that I hadn't accepted it or even began to process the fact that she was gone. In reality, everyone deals with grief differently and its not a case of 'one way suits everyone'; I only wish someone had told me this two years ago.
This time last year I was sat in a hotel in Plymouth. I used to adore Plymouth, its a city on the sea and honestly I can't think of anything cooler than that. I literally cannot visit Plymouth anymore, and even the mention of the name makes me feel weird in my chest. Plymouth is just Rhi, everywhere I look I see something that reminds me of her and whilst I want to love the place, the thought of being there without her feels so wrong.
I have a video on my phone, it's of Rhi and I on the dodgems at some random pop up fun fair on Plymouth Hoe. In the video you can hear her infectious laugh, the laugh that quite literally filled the room and made everyone smile. After we went on those dodgems, she took me up the lighthouse on Plymouth Hoe - a story that I somehow manage to tell every time I'm asked for my favourite memory of her. As we get to the top of this lighthouse, the stairs disappear and Rhi is suddenly halfway up the most rickety wooden ladder to the top because "Em we can get cool selfies up here" and I mean I wasn't going to argue with an Instagram photo! We eventually made it and the photos are cute but in all honesty my favourite thing about this was her enthusiasm. Anyone who knew Rhi knew how passionate and determined she was to get what she wanted, and she managed to do it in a way that made you feel like it was your idea!! On this day, she decided she wanted to get to the top of a lighthouse and make me face my fear of heights in the process (and it worked as she told me so often.) A year later, I sat at the bottom of the lighthouse in the pouring rain and cried for about an hour because I couldn't deal with the fact that it had been a year without Rhi.
I honestly cannot believe that it has been two years since Rhi left us. It's gone so quickly but at the same time feels like a lifetime without her. Two years later, the pain of losing someone so close is still huge. Life has gone on – it has to, right? But it isn’t the same. I still expect to see her name pop up on my phone. To hear her laugh as she sang Loca the Pug over FaceTime at 1am. I miss our continuous countdowns to the next time we would see each-other. I miss sitting and watching Disney films, because she was the only person who ever liked them as much as me. I miss the pinky promises every single day. I miss FaceTime Fridays. I miss her laugh, her wisdom, and her positive attitude.
I miss you and love you forever and always, like we promised.
I am aware that parts of this probably don't even make sense, in all honesty I don't think I can even reread it. I didn't want to post this, until Jess told me that I've "summed up how everyone else is feeling." I've never really done anything like this before and the idea of having a blog makes me cringe a bit but I'm shit at emotions and this seemed like the easiest way to let everything out whilst contributing to the memory of Rhi - something that I promised her I would do. Thank you for reading this xxxxxx
Finally, I have to thank absolutely everyone who has been there for me over the past few years - whether you were sat by my side in that church in December 2015 or if you sent me a twitter message at any point during the past two years. I know Rhi asked so many people to 'look after me for her' which still makes me cry every time I hear it but I didn't expect SO MUCH love from everyone, especially The Wanted fanbase I love you all ;). My two most special thank yous are for Jess and Amy - two people who have grieved Rhi alongside me and most definitely got me through it. Jess you are by far the best friend I could ever ask for and I will never ever be able to thank you enough for being by my side and holding my hand through absolutely everything that the last two years have thrown at us. I most definitely haven't been the easiest to deal with (aka Plymouth last year) but you're incredible and I love you so much. Amy I completely see why Rhi adored you so much, you've become one of my best friends over the past year and a half and your strength will never fail to amaze me. Whilst it may have taken us a long long time to actually talk about Rhi, we got there and I am SO proud of us. I love you so much.
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