ghost

in memory of Alicia x

I thought I knew what a ghost was.

At least, I understood the pop culture version of what a ghost is. There were two kind main kinds, I thought. There was the cartoon-ish, Scooby Doo-type ghost — a bed sheet with a couple of holes cut out of it. Laughably childish, easy to dismiss. Then there was another type, the type featured in Paranormal Activity. Unseen for much of the time, doing nefarious things like making cupboards fly open and possessing babies and making dogs bark at nothing.

That’s what ghosts were. Either part of children’s cartoons or part of entertainment designed to scare people.

Then I found out last week one of my friends died by suicide.

And now I know what a ghost is. Now I know what it means to be haunted.

I am still in the midst of grief, and I can feel her behind me. Not quite at all times, no. That would be a lie. She comes when I am still, when I am not busying myself with work or chores or general life admin. When I stop, that is when she is with me. She is just outside of my field of vision, but I can feel her there.

I always see her smiling or laughing. But she is silent.

I cannot turn to her. I cannot touch her. I cannot reach out, grab her by the shoulders and ask her why she did what she did. Ask her why she did not tell anyone, why she thought she was so down a deep, dark hole she did not think anyone could help her get out of it. Ask her if there was a moment, right before, when doubt crept into her mind.

After all, she is a ghost. She cannot speak to me. She can only hover, just outside my periphery, silent and smiling.

I am and will always be grateful to my Edinburgh friends. Getting through this together is the only way through. Also grateful to my support network in Australia, for helping me through this time.