On 27th February 2019 I lost my soulmate, and the love of my life. I still cannot quite believe that this lovely man has gone. Even now, a year later, I expect to see him walking into the sitting room, or rushing to open the front door for me before I can get my key into it (one of his favourite tricks, if he happened to see me coming up the path). His first utterance would invariably be “Baby”, with a long, drawn out first syllable. How I miss hearing that word.
Kieran was the sweetest, gentlest, most caring person I ever knew. He would put himself out to help others and often spent hours talking with people who just needed someone to listen. And he looked after me. I didn’t know I needed someone to look after me until he came into my life but Kieran did, and he did it selflessly and completely. In the past year I have had to get used to not having him around to look after me; and yet I hear him talking to me, advising me or telling me off (!) constantly. At least I still have that.
Being with Kieran was easy. I won’t say we never argued. We did; sometimes having blazing rows, but we always found our peace and equilibrium again very quickly. Sulking wasn’t natural to either of us. It was the comfortable, easy way in which we functioned that was so special. Although we were very different in many ways, we thought alike and often knew exactly what the other was thinking. Frequently, we would say exactly the same thing at the same time. Some of this was probably a result of living together for a long time but I think it was more than that. We had that special connection which really does only come about with one’s soulmate. I’d never experienced it before and I will always be grateful that I had it with Kieran.
There is so much that I miss about Kieran. I miss the laughter. We both made each other laugh, all the time. Sometimes it was unintentional and, if that was at Kieran’s expense, he would complain that I was a “meany.” If it was at my expense, he’d practically split his sides laughing. He discovered early on that it was very easy to make me jump and he would react gleefully when he did so. Then there were the times when he’d just be plain crackers. I lost count of the times when I’d be minding my own business and he’d suddenly appear doing some weird dance or weirdly arrayed. Trying to ignore him was pointless. He’d just keep doing it until he got a reaction.
I even miss the fact that he was a terrible tease. He knew how to wind me up, and did so frequently. When I eventually lost my rag, he’d immediately respond “just having a little josh baby!” How I wish he were here to wind me up now.
Kieran also had a mission. It was too deflate my ego whenever he felt it had become necessary. He was extremely good at taking the piss out of me and bringing me back down to earth. Always it was accompanied by that wonderful, cheeky smile. Ah, that smile. Sometimes I could be absolutely furious with him and then he’d smile at me. He used to infuriate me with his inability ever to put anything back in the same place. I’d be moaning under my breath (useless, because he had really good hearing and would hear my mumbling even from several rooms away), and he’d just say “you love me!” accompanying the utterance with a smile.
And, of course, I did love him. I loved him with every fibre of my being. I still do.
I am incredibly grateful to my family and to my wonderful friends who have helped me get through this last year. There have been times when I really haven’t known how I’m going to carry on but friends and family have always been there for me. I think there will, for the rest of my life, always be a part of me missing. Maybe that’s alright. To deny it would be somehow to deny the strength of my love for Kieran and the wonderful, blissful years we had together.
Kieran, my love, my life; you left us too, too soon. When I look up to the stars I see the brightest, twinkliest, most outrageous and most wonderful star of them all shining down on me, and on all that huge number of people who loved you and whom you’ve left behind (a number he was far too modest and self-effacing to realise was so great).
I wish you could come back to us, but I know you can’t. I hope you’re having fun, teasing people and telling terrible jokes up there. Rest in peace my beautiful man. Xxxxx
Indoor Voice 