17May2024
Dear Diary,
I never imagined, at twenty, what lay ahead for me. I was a university student in Manchester, head over heels for Ethel Smith, and already dreaming of a wedding because we had been talking about it for months.
Ethel was a year younger than me; I had finished my National Service before I ever set foot at the schools autumn ball, where she was in her final year. I still remember the first time I saw her. Although we lived in the same town and attended the same secondary school, I had already graduated.
Whos that handsome fellow? I thought as she walked in. She locked eyes with me, smiled, and I fell instantly. He could hardly be any differenthe was striking, unlike any other boy Id known.
Hello, Im Andrew Clarke. And you are? he asked, a hint of embarrassment in his voice, cheeks flushing pink. May I have this dance? He took my waist and we spun across the floor.
Ethel I whispered, feeling as if I were floating. Andrew held me securely, guiding every step.
Ethel, you dance so easily, he grinned.
He never left my side that evening. We promised to see each other after the ball, and we lingered long into the night, unwilling to part, though I knew I had to get homeMother would be worrying.
Andrew never let a dull moment creep in. After school, I enrolled at the university here, while he started work. He never knew boredom or a bad mood; his optimism lifted everyone around him. He had a wide circle of friends, and I often joined them at weddings and gatherings.
Even in midwinter he would bring me roses, turning each date into a celebration. Wed sit in cafés, escape to the countryside, or head out with friends.
When I was on my third year, Andrew surprised me.
Over the Christmas break were heading to the ski resort; Ive already bought two tickets. Youll learn to skithere are excellent instructors wholl have you down the slope in no time.
Yay, youre the best, Andy! I squealed, clinging to his neck. Then I blurted, Oh, Im a bit of a cowardI’m scared of the hill. Did you know that? and laughed.
The trip was unforgettable. I quickly mastered the slopes and loved it, though I dreaded the end of that fairytale weekend. Later, on International Womens Day, Andrew arrived at my house bearing two bouquets.
Happy Womens Day, he said, handing one to my mother and the other to me. For you, my love, he added, planting a kiss on my cheek. I was thrilled by the beautiful roses.
My dear, why are you splurging so? my mother asked. Its expensive.
Its fine. Sasha and Vlad are heading out for work; theyre taking me with them. Im planning to join a crew installing highvoltage linesgood pay. Ill save for a wedding and a car, Andrew replied.
I dont want you to go, I protested. Ill be away only three or four months. Well stay in touch. I want a lovely wedding, and you do too, dont you?
I do, though a modest ceremony would suit us as well. The important thing is that we remain together, I said, a little wistful.
Andrew was determined not to back down, so I couldnt convince him to stay. He left with his mates, the pay truly generous, and we spoke on the phone often.
One afternoon during a lecture, a sudden unease washed over me, then faded. The night before, wed spoken, so I didnt expect a call that evening. My heart felt offbalance at home, and I dialed Andrew, though he was always the one calling. His phone stayed silent, and my pulse throbbed painfully in my temples.
Why isnt he answering? I thought, dialing five times in a row. Finally I found Vlads number and called.
Vlad, wheres Andrew? I asked.
A familiar voice responded, Hes gone.
Gone? What do you mean? I asked, but only static answered back. I cried out, Mum! and broke down.
The next days were a nightmare. I later learned that Andrew had been electrocuted on that very power pole. His mother, Mrs. Clarke, was a pallid shadow of herself, speaking little, waiting for his father and younger brother Roman to return. The funeral was a blur of darkness and grief.
I was devastated, drifting in a stupor. I visited Mrs. Clarke often, sitting in silence, or wed drive together to his graveside. She clung to me, urging me to spend more time with her, especially now that summer holidays were here. We toured churches and shared tea.
One morning she suggested, Ethel, why dont we take a trip to the seaside?
I agreed, though I questioned whyAndrew was no longer there, and his mother seemed unwilling to let me go. Still, my own mother advised me to slowly detach from the whole situation. So we booked a week away.
At the coast, Mrs. Clarke seemed a little steadier. I checked my phone, unable to sleep; she dozed lightly. Life bustled around us, yet I felt profoundly alone.
I walked to the promenade, gazing at the horizon where sea met sky. A tiny liner flickered on the far edge. Seagulls shrieked, cars honked, children laughed, and strangers chattered. The world thrummed with life, but I felt isolated.
A voice beside me said, You look both beautiful and sad.
I turned to a young man, hesitated to answer sharply, but instead replied, The beautiful dont always get happiness, I said quietly.
I disagree, he countered. Believe me, Im Glyn.
Glyn? Im Ethel.
We exchanged a few lines, then I walked away. Glyn watched me go. He had been observing that melancholy girl for days, pitying that she seemed always accompanied by her mother.
He resolved to learn where I was from; he liked me, even if I wore a veil of sorrow. He often watched me from the beach.
Two days remained before we left. After a beach stroll, I stopped in a shop and ran into Glyn again. He snatched the grocery bag from my hands.
Ill help, if you dont mind, he said, instantly on a firstname basis.
Help if you wish, I replied.
Ethel, could we talk? I have something serious to discuss and many questions, if youre okay with that, he gestured toward a summer café beside the supermarket.
Im leaving in three days, Glyn said, and you?
Were flying out tomorrow night; tickets are in hand.
Ah, I felt it, he murmured. Where do you live? I named the town, and he looked surprised.
Im not mistaken? I live there too, he exclaimed. Great, we wont lose each other, he smiled.
Glyn had graduated from the same university, now working in a design office for the council. He wasnt married; after a breakup, hed come down here to unwind and, unexpectedly, met me. He fell for me at first sight.
I told him about my grief and Andrews mothers clinginess. He was startled.
Why did you come with his mother? Usually families dont keep a daughter of a deceased son so close. Ive never heard of that before, he said.
I dont know either, but I dont want to hurt her, I answered.
We swapped numbers and agreed to meet back in Manchester. I had to head off. Suddenly Mrs. Clarke realised I was missing and asked sternly, Ethel, where are you?
I went shopping, then for a walk, I replied. The weight of staying near Mrs. Clarke grew unbearable; being surrounded by Andrews relatives reminded me constantly of his absence. My own mother often urged me, Free yourself from this burden. Why keep seeing his mother? Shes stifling you. Yet my kindness kept me from abandoning her, even on that holiday.
I sensed I could not continue like this. I decided, once we got home, I would gradually distance myself. That evening we packed with Mrs. Clarke, discussing my future. I said, Ill return to Manchester and start a new life.
She looked at me oddly and said, A new life, you say? Well, you have your whole future ahead. I thought you might be pregnant you and Andrew were together so long. I have a son; perhaps you could be a mother to him
I snapped, No one wants me. I dont need anyone, especially not Andrews brother, and she wept for the first time since the funeral, which oddly eased my heart.
I resolved then: my new life would have no place for Mrs. Clarke.
The thought of returning home echoed in my mind. Perhaps meeting Glyn was a blessing; through him my eyes opened to the whole mess.
The new academic year began. Glyn and I kept seeing each other, and one day I went alone to Andrews grave.
Goodbye, Andrew, I whispered. I was truly happy with you. Thank you for the joy. You left too soon, but I must live on. Im different now, and Ill have a new life a life without you. Farewell.
I left the cemetery gate and walked back to the car where Glyn waited. With him, I felt reborn. I saw Mrs. Clarke only occasionally, if at all. Soon I married Glyn, and we are expecting our first child.
Lesson learned: grief can anchor you to the past, but the only way forward is to let go, embrace new connections, and allow yourself to live again.
