Things Gina would have...

Our first proper holiday in Gina's flat has been full of "Gina would have..." moments. Gina would have approved of us keeping the flat and would have approved of us kitting it out with things she might have chosen herself. Gina would have chuckled at us being woken up at 6.30am because we switched on her bedside clock, complete with alarm she set. Gina would have approved of our trips to Hebridian islands Cumbrae and Mull. She would have loved Millport and Tobermory. Gina would have liked the fact that we visited the Mitchell Library. She always intended to go there with her Mum but never got chance. Gina would have been amused by us having to chop up a sofa in the flat after failing to get it taken away. Tonight we plan to go and eavesdrop on the OMD concert at Kelvingrove. Gina would have liked that too. It's still hard to shake the thought that she's still around, approving of... or tutting at the things we do. Tomorrow we'll be at the Commonwealth Games at...

In 2023, Gina ran her first marathon in Edinburgh. It would no doubt have been the first of many if she hadn't become ill. Cruelly perhaps, the 2026 Edinburgh marathon fell on what should have been Gina's 30th birthday. In a different universe where she had survived, Gina would have been there battling through, to support the charities that helped her through 2024.  The coincidence wasn't missed by Gina's friends though. In the end, around a dozen of her friends and family ran in the 10k, half and full marathon events. Among them were her brother and brother-in-law as well as friends from college and university. It was a hugely emotional weekend which I was personally dreading, for all the wrong reasons. We've discovered that one of the difficulties in dealing with losing a child, is that for the most part, everyone else moves on - as they should. They see us coping with daily life in view of others, and assume that we are OK; that we have to some degree moved on - ...

As we gather our things to head home after a week at Gina's flat, I find myself wishing I could stay longer. I have no regrets about buying the flat and I feel it's an important part of my coping mechanism.  Being here, it seems OK to talk about Gina; to remember things she and we did here. It's somehow less morbid. I'm glad we have this place. I'm sure Gina would have approved. 

Mothers Day is another difficult time of year, for a mother without her daughter. It seems cruel that as everyone else celebrates, visits, sends flowers, Gina's mother is having to see al that happening publicly on Facebook etc, while having to cope with the fact that there will be no new card from her daughter. No phone call.  This year, as last, Gina's last Mothers Day card is proudly displayed again. A reminder, if one were needed, of what we've lost.

Now that it's more than a year since we lost Gina, people might expect it to get easier - the first anniversary has gone, the first Christmas has been avoided. The problem is (as Gina used to say), that's not how it works.  The fact that it's now over a year means that we no longer have the "this time last year" moments to look back on. They somehow helped, and there's a feeling that we slowly forget the last year we had with Gina. Even though much of it was awful, there were brighter moments and at least a sense of purpose. As that fades into the past, it feels like we're losing more of her. Hanging onto memories id not easy; perhaps not possible.

It seems like yesterday that we left the Beatson, feeling numb and empty after Gina had slipped away from us. A year on, that numbness still taints every single day and the world still seems a darker place. We carry on though. What else can we do? Gina would want us to find a way to be happy again, but it's so hard.

We've dreaded today. The first Christmas after losing someone close, is bound to be hard. It's doubly difficult for us because this time last year we were sat around Gina's bed opening her presents for her and describing the contents in the hope that she could hear. We'd already had our last conversations with her and two days later she would be gone. Christmas this year isn't about celebration. It's about surviving into a second year without our beautiful girl. This year there are no decorations. No tree. No Christmas dinner. There will be no Christmas morning pancakes - a unique family tradition which Gina was especially keen on. So do we say we'll never do these things again, which we associate with Gina? Or, do we do them as a way to remember her? Both seem equally painful.