My thanks to Sylvain for the beta work.

7th June 2012

A Year Ago Today

It's a year to the day since Jackson died, since he drank a cocktail of pills that would end his life. I helped him to do that, and twelve months later, I still haven't quite come to terms with it. I know I never will, and that's how it should be. It would be wrong to completely distance myself from what I did. It would be like distancing myself from why I did it and I don't want to do that, because what I did, I did because I loved him.

And because I loved him, I feel like I should be there today, that I should be visiting his grave. People mark such anniversaries, don't they? They take flowers and spend some time remembering their loved one. I won't be able to go today, or any day, not ever again, and I feel so very guilty about that. There are times, like now, when I feel like I've deserted him. His mum's not going to be there either. I know she'll mark the day in some way, just not there, not in Emmerdale. As far as I know Jerry hasn't been back there since the funeral, but hopefully he'll go today. I know Jackson's not really there, but I can't help but think that one of the three people who loved him most in the world, should spend some time there today.

Paddy's keeping an eye on the grave for me, making sure it's weed-free and that the stone is clean, that it's kept looking nice. I promised Hazel I'd do all that, but that's another promise I've broken. My mum said she would put fresh flowers on it every week, and promised to put something special on it today. That's something, isn't it? It's proof that Jackson's not been forgotten... he was scared that he would be, scared that I would forget him. But how could I? How could I ever forget the first man I loved, the first man who loved me? Like I told him that day, he changed my life and, for too short a time, he was my life.

My life ended that day too; at least, that's how it seemed at the time. Grief is a terrible thing, and for a while it overpowered me. I wasn't prepared for the pain, for the agony that hit me on seeing him take his last breath. I couldn't bear to look at him after that, he looked so different in death, and not how I wanted to remember him. I ran from the room, my feet taking me to the place I'd always felt safe and loved... but I never made it in through the door. I never reached my place of sanctuary. I never made it home. First Paddy then Adam got in my way, trying to talk to me; they knew something was wrong, they knew something terrible had happened. And they were right. On June 7th 2011, the world stopped turning.

If I could I would have just kept on running, and never looked back. But my trembling legs wouldn't carry me any further, and my lungs burned with need. It wasn't the right thing to do anyway, I had to stay, I had to see it through.

I didn't think I could hurt anymore than I did right then, but I was wrong, because each day the pain grew more intense. I coped for a while. I had to. Hazel needed me, and I'd promised Jackson I would look after her, and I tried to. I tried so hard to be what she needed me to be. But when things started to go wrong, I started to fall apart. I started to hate myself, to believe I'd actually killed him, that what I'd done was wrong, unforgivable, and that I should be punished. When the law failed to do that, I started punishing myself.

When I think about that time now, it's like all that shit was happening to someone else, to a stranger. It wasn't the person I am now doing those things. I was just an onlooker, watching helplessly as some broken soul deliberately inflicted pain on himself. I should have stopped him but I couldn't. I should have helped him but I didn't. He... me, didn't want to stop, didn't want help. I just wanted the release it gave, the spacing out that no matter how briefly, took me anywhere but where I was, from where I didn't want to be.

The world had become a dark and frightening place, but it was far from empty. There were people all around me, but they were too near, too loud, too demanding. I just wanted them to leave me alone, to get out of my face, to stop telling me what to do. And I was so tired, I couldn't sleep. I didn't want to sleep, not knowing what images were waiting for me when I closed my eyes... Jackson crying out to me to help him. Jackson demanding to know why I'd forced poison down his throat... and why I didn't love him anymore. Always in my dreams he hated me.

It was all such a jumble in my head. One great mass of confusion. I couldn't tell the difference between the truth and a lie, I didn't know what was real or imagined. I didn't know anything anymore. The only true thing in my world then, the only thing that I could trust, that I could believe in, was pain.

I couldn't go on that way, those around me wouldn't let me go on that way, and with their help, I clawed my way out of that dark hole. I hauled myself out of that bottomless pit. I fought my way back and started to live again. I started to see, to feel, to want, to need… but I wasn't looking for someone else. I wasn't ready for another relationship. But then Ed walked into my life, and as blind as I was to him at first, that all changed.

Love! It can bring you to your knees and it can send your soul soaring. It really can make or break a man.

I loved Jackson and for reasons I will never understand he loved me. Because he loved me, he wanted me to be happy, he wanted me to move on, and because I loved him, I have. That's one promise I managed to keep. Two if you count the not forgetting him.

I didn't think I could let anyone else get that close to me again, but I have. I didn't think I could love anyone other than Jackson, but I do.

I've got a second chance at happiness, and a new life here in France. Who'd have believed it? Not me, not then... not a year ago today!

End.