“For the ones who stayed,”
“For the ones who left,”
“And for all the ones who were lost.”

I watched Belfast a few weeks ago.
The hype around a film from Northern Ireland was hard to avoid.

Truth be told, I hate seeing NI on screen. But I gave in. And off we trotted to the cinema.

Hearing home was incredible.
Seeing the orange and green, painted black and white, felt like something otherworldly and altogether special.

I felt in the know, and Rue who has borne the brunt of the NI humour, agreed that it was like a trip back to Norn Iron.

If you haven’t seen it, do. It is a beautiful representation of all that makes up that silly part of the world.

And those final lines flashed up on screen, made me pause.

A pause that became a thought, triggered by the loss of someone recently.

Life isn’t just about the choice to stay or go.

And those who are lost to us, leave most of us in the in-between.

We didn’t choose to love them. We didn’t choose to lose them.

But here we are.
Creating a life that no longer has a husband to chat things through with.
A life that no longer has a mum to tell you where you are going wrong.

A life that no longer has …and yet in so many ways is spent filling the void to replace the no longer has.

For me, it is my father who I lost and loved. Although I didn’t really know him.

And it might well be the not knowing that hits me the most.

As Don Warrington said in a Guardian interview, “It’s not quite of my father but of the silhouette of my father. He died when I was three.”

Mine died when I was 7.

And I think I’ve spent most of my life trying to figure out…

Who am I without him?
Who would I have been with him?

How do I do this thing called life after he left and can I go on without them?

Of course, life goes on.

Sometimes with the shadow of those lost hanging over us.

Sometimes with the certainty that they are smiling down on us.

Sometimes it is just about imagining what they would have thought of how far you’ve come and how much more you’ve got to do – without them by your side.

It’s in the in-between that those left behind learn who they really are.