Sometimes, I marvel at how lucky I am. Today was one of those days.
I woke up to every teenage girls dream; sunlight shining through the curtains, birds singing, big muscly arms around me, to be followed by unlimited cups of coffee and breakfast in bed. Empty house, hot shower, more coffee, and then back into bed with Mr Megan to hide under the covers for a while. I then went home to my family; my sister has just learnt to swim underwater, my dad has just been invited to a second interview for his new job. Then I made pancakes and watched the rugby. Little things like these make me happy.
Not just cliche moments like this morning, just the fact that my family is all happy and healthy, even if they're not quite right in the head, sometimes irritatingly Tory, and embarrassingly racist. My friends might not be flawlessly supportive, or without their own annoying quirks, but I love them to pieces and I think (and hope!) that they care about me too. I have a house to live in and financially, we might not be cracking but at least we're fairly solid now.
It's times like these, when we feel as though we should be truly thankful, that our minds automatically drift to the best times we can remember. It might seem strange, but is it not so? When we go to a good party, do you not compare it to the best one you can remember (or the better ones you can't?) When we're on a first date, do we not compare the poor fella to that One That Got Away?
I know I always think back to a time when life seemed (GAYYYCRINGECLICHE) a bit magical, when I first realised that I was lucky and had pretty much the whole world open to me, when I first tested the waters of what was to come. I think of the crazy times, the times I can hardly remember, and the moments I will remember forever, because they seemed to stretch out seconds into little pockets of nostalgia.
This is a seemingly unrelated introduction to my main point; that the loved ones that we lose can seem all the more lovable for what more they could have shared. You'll always remember the one you couldn't have for the love you'll never know - for the depths you never knew it could reach, and the things you never knew they could teach you. The truth is, the people we lose in life teach us the more about ourselves than anyone else, and yet this is the love that is the most pure and unselfish. The moments we share with them become the most treasured, and the ones that you replay over and over again in your mind, fighting with your memory to recall the smallest details, and keep them tattooed in your mind forever. They are the conversations that you will kick yourself for having, or worse, for not having. They are the goodbyes that will seem the most callous and unfeeling on your part, and the remarks the most flippant and stupid. Stupid.
You could torture yourself with "what if I had said this?" and "why didn't I just tell him that?" and no, it probably wouldn't have driven him away and yes, you are the reason the goodbye was so painful. But at the end of the day, the worst pain is knowing that they're not there, and never will be.
If you have time today, do something for somebody else. Donate some money to the Leukaemia and Lymphoma Society. Donate blood. Tell that person you love them. Stop being afraid, and too proud, and stubborn, and cold. Yeah, you'll seem like a cock, but I know I wish I had.
This post is dedicated to Emma Donald, whom I did not know well enough. She triggered, but did not inspire, this post. R.I.P. x