I see my niece going to hell

‘Missed, really missed.’ That was the first thing I thought when I saw my niece at our aunt's funeral. She was always the prettiest of ‘our nieces’. A cheerful, blonde curly head with sparkling eyes and a beautiful figure. Well-spoken, but in a very nice way.

No more shine

Now I saw a woman who still looked well-groomed, but where the shine was clearly gone. Despite the makeup, the broken capillaries on her face were clearly visible. And that face was swollen. Not because of tears, as aunt had reached the respectable age of ninety. Everyone was at peace with her passing.

The five in the clock

We sat next to each other in the meeting room of the crematorium where coffee was served and sandwiches were offered. ‘This is no time for coffee anymore?’ she remarked. ‘The five has long been in the clock.’ She clearly hoped for wine and bitterballen. Or baguette with brie.

Shaking hands

I didn't respond to her comment but asked how she was doing. And how the kids, the business, her husband were. ‘Everything's fine’ according to her. I doubted it, especially seeing her somewhat trembling hands. She saw that I saw it. ‘Well, long days, little sleep, and many fashion stores are going under at the moment,’ she noted. I understood it, as my friend, who also runs a clothing store, struggles with the same problem.

Bubble

‘You’re often active on Facebook late at night, aren’t you?’ I suggested, recalling the late-night hours when I also sat behind the PC posting everything. With a bottle of wine within reach and a pack of cigarettes. She confirmed it. ’Those are the most precious moments. When hubby and the kids are asleep. Just alone, no worries on my mind.‘ I was silent for a moment. Then said: ’That bubble is indeed wonderful. I recognize it. But the godforsaken alarm clock the next day… When you long for that glass of wine and peace at ten in the morning.‘

The hell

‘My story,’ she admitted. With a big smile, but without shine. ‘For me, it was an escape,’ I said. ‘Completely unhappy with the situation back then; with my husband, my work, and the downward spiral we were in. The wine felt heavenly, so late at night, but the hangovers were hell, in the morning, where reality was undeniable.’

Quasi nonchalant

‘Oh well, there’s always something,’ she shrugged quasi nonchalantly. ‘True, but there’s always something to be done about it,’ I said. ‘Really! Although I’m the last one to say it’s easy.’ ‘Is it better for you now?’ she asked. ‘Because you’ve gained quite a bit.’

Dismissing problems

Recognition at its peak; this remark. Because I made such statements too when I was reasonably in a valley back then. To deflect attention from my own problems to the ‘weaknesses’ of another. In this case, it was the two sizes more that I was now wearing.

Numbing

‘I’ve become a different person, despite size 42, admittedly ten kilos heavier, but ten times better in my skin. And in my head. And I wish that for you too.’ She nodded sympathetically when we said goodbye and I asked her to take good care of herself. Because life has so much more to offer than the numbness during the night hours.

Text by: Franska.co.uk