Last week on Sunday, remembrance Sunday, it was the three year anniversary of your death. I was in a flat near Brighton, getting ready to go to comicon dressed as Daenerys Targaryen. I put on a costume wedding dress to go to a hotel and hang out with a bunch of other people in costumes, take pictures, talk about TV shows, comics, films, and books, and generally try to have a nice time.
Nobody said anything to me about the date all day. To be fair, a lot of people didn’t know why it was a significant day for me. A lot of people didn’t even know me, they just saw a girl dressed as the mother of dragons. Aptly an orphan like me, fighting for her place in the world (if you haven’t watched game of thrones this reference is probably lost on you, but bear with me). I didn’t cry that day, but I felt like it. I didn’t run to the pier and throw things into the sea, but I felt like it. I didn’t have the bonfire on the beach that I wanted, and I didn’t push the matter because I didn’t want to take over the day or seem selfish or demanding.
Three has always been my lucky number, but this is a set of threes that I don’t like at all. You haven’t been here now for 3 of my birthdays, you’ve been gone for 3 Christmases. I have got 3 years older, and you haven’t aged at all. There have been 3 Doctor Who Christmas specials that you will never see. You died before that last 3 Hunger Games films came out, and the 3 years of Obama’s second term happened without you on this earth.
Three years is a long time, and sometimes I can barely believe it’s been that long. So much has happened that I never got to share with you, there are hundreds of phone calls I never got to make, and texts that I’ll never write. I got a paid internship about 6 months after you died, which lasted all of a month or so because I wasn’t ready to face the real world. I made some stupid decisions, got hurt by some boys, and hurt a few myself. I cried, and laughed, and danced, without you being able to share it. But it’s not all bad or sad stuff. I have achieved a lot that I’m proud of. I finally graduated from uni, stood on the stage in the big fancy old hall and was given a hand shake by a man who looks a lot like Peter Capaldi (but sadly isn’t!) I’ve had 5 more jobs after that too, as well as doing a lot of volunteering. I stood in the students’ union elections, spoke in front of 750 people in the Olympic stadium, met my boyfriend on a residential I was invited to because of you, and spent a day travelling across London spreading the message about young carers and how amazing they are. I got half of my jobs because you had been ill; working with young carers like I was to support them and champion the amazing things they do. I am writing a novel, based on a girl whose mum died, because of you. I started this blog because of you. I miss you…
Three years have gone by since you died, and I have definitely changed a lot over that time. I don’t have a clue where I’ll be three years from now, but I will definitely be remembering you. I love you always, and will do my best to have a good year four ❤