It is just a smidge after 6 months since Chelsea took her life.
I’ve taken a screen shot from her Facebook wall, which her daughter keeps updated.
Chelsea was AMAZING at Facebook. She always made me giggle, and she had so much to give and share.
I woke up after dreaming about swimming through warm, dark water… and I needed to write down the empty that I feel thinking about her.
New Years day 2016 I was on the banks of the North Saskatchewan river with my four children and soulmate (husband) Steve.
Snow. A huge bonfire. Babies, cousins, laughter, and a text message from Australia:
One of my five best friends on the planet sent me a message, which I received while transferring clothes from the washer to the dryer at my aunt’s house.
“Chelsea killed herself.”
And now, there is no more rolling laughter (cackles) from her belly. Now her beautiful, vivacious daughter is left to navigate what I remember as the toughest times in my own life, without her single favourite human. Now there is no more Chelsea selfies. Now there is no more her when I visit Brisbane. Now the planet is a somewhat quieter, and absolutely a less wonderful place, because one of the many angels on this earth couldn’t fight anymore.
I realise how mellow dramatic this may sound. But fuck. I miss her, and I do not for a second hate her for taking her leave. I wish every day that she could have held on, because I know she had more to do here on earth. And the absolute rock bottom she was feeling would have passed… And then it would return… And I just wish she was still here because the world was better with her in it, even if she never felt that it was.
Now I am reaching out to anyone who might stumble onto the words I write and imploring you to hang on, because death is really, really, really permanent.
The very last time I saw Chelsea was a few short weeks before she left this planet.
I told an amazingly funny story about how my beloved husband sometimes wakes me up to initiate sex. Oh my word, did Chelsea laugh at this story… She had a great laugh.
She didn’t want to die. She just wanted to stop all the pain and suffering and be free…
Chelsea honey. I am so glad I knew you. And I miss you, and I hope that you know that the world was richer with you in it.
If you are in New Zealand, and you need to talk, call lifeline on 0800 111 757 to talk to a trained counsellor.
Hang on. Because the feeling you are feeling will give way to joy again, it really will.
The day of Chelsea’s funeral, I was driving to and fro with my God daughter Olivia, who adored her Auntie Chelsea. The day was a blur, and I remember sitting in Chelsea’s favourite seafood restaurant, looking over the water to the island where she was when she took her life. I sat with Steve, and I remember reading that David Bowie had died. That day is burned into my brain. Her funeral. Her friends. Her family. Her pain. They are a part of each and every person who shared that day.
While I was driving around running here and there, Chelsea sent me a song on the radio and I wept:
My daughter and I listen to this song often, and I don’t think the tears that come when I think of her will ever run dry.
Brie Honey… I am sending you so much Love. Angela… I don’t know what to say or do, and I know that you are grieving so hard and I can’t do anything but let you know I am here if you need me.
Shaun. Thank you for being my friend, and thank you for the intertwined lives we have lived for well over two decades. Please hug your beautiful girls, and I’ll see you in a few weeks.
Chelsea. You are missed. You are Loved. You are a part of us all forever.