It’s been a difficult year in general – a surfeit of celebrity deaths, that shock Brexit result, the departure of a Prime Minister. But for me, 2016 was largely going to be about one fact – the 20th anniversary of Jenny’s death.
The approaching date has nagged at me since the end of last year. We were only 27 when she died. Not that long from now I’ll reach the point where more time has passed in my life since I lost my twin than when we were both alive.
As it turned out, today was ok, quite peaceful. I didn’t get upset or even anxious and, strangely, I didn’t think about Jenny much more than usual. I’m grateful this anniversary fell on a Saturday, so I didn’t have to face the trade-off between office stress making the day worse and the empty time to fill if I took the day off.
This year the worse month has been August – with its associations of staying in Jenny’s spare room and seeing her for the last time. By comparison, today was almost normal.