Grief is isolating. Often I feel as if I’m on one side of a river and everyone I know is on the other side.

My side of the river is not without beauty, there are almond trees and olives, but it’s a hard hilly country with little shade whereas the other side has plenty of shady trees and cool green spaces to lie on.

People may come over and visit my side of the river, but they know they don’t have to stay. I’m here forever.

I can appreciate the nuances of my new landscape, but I can’t help looking across the river and remembering my life over there. This hurts much more than what anyone says or does.

By Lesley Buxton