Hello, from here

I woke up this morning, and you were the first thing I thought of. A year, a whole year passed since you left. I can’t imagine how all your family and close friends are today, as they stop and remember you.


It’s not like we ever stop though. Reminded of you in small ways, almost every day. A bunch of flowers. Stupid Facebook and it’s reminders where you’ve commented. A song. Something small, and there you are back again. And again it’s like the wind being taken out of your guts when you remember that you’re not here anymore. Your poor kids. Poor Keith.

I’ll be driving along and this song will come on, and I know that you’re hovering above somewhere.

I know you were hanging around on the day Maggie was born. Of course you were, I felt you there.  Oh you’d love her Amelia. She has these tufts of hair over her ears where the one part of her hair grows. It slays me. I know you’d get it.


I had the most frustrating day today. My lappy stopped working. Just like that. The white screen of death where nothing loads. I’ve spent the day watching YouTube tutorials, installing things, calling people, lamenting the loss of all my thousands of images on there and hoping they will be retrieved. I’ve been frustrated by stupid stuff, stuff that doesn’t matter and I keep thinking it must mean something, because I constantly read into everything as a sign.

I walked away from the computer. Got in the car and turned the music up loud. Drove to the nursery and spent money on plants. Always cheers me up. I got some sweet pea seeds, because it’s St Patricks Day and that’s the day that you have to plant them according to my friend who told me this morning on Instagram. I came home, got dirt under my nails, put Maggie down. Got the girls home from School. Watched them play. Sat on the floor thinking about all the mundane things I get to do that you miss out on.

Look at the afternoon light stream through the window.


Pick a bunch of flowers from the garden.


Watch your kid and dog lay in the sun, knowing how good that feels on your back as it soaks into your bones.


Look at your baby and marvel at the magic of them.


I was forced to stop and have a look around, get a reality check, and soak in every one of these normal, everyday moments of life we so often look past, that I know you would give anything for just to have back.

Thanks for letting me see them again. For always making me stop to see them now. I see them for me and you. I wish you could see them my friend.

I planted some sweet peas today and in a few months time, they may flower and I’ll think of you. Time keeps going, the earth keeps turning, and you’re still not here. But you’re missed and I just know will never be forgotten.


I hope there’s a G&T for you there, some Fleetwood Mac playing on Vinyl as it should be, a great hairstyle on you, a rocking t-shirt and some skinny jeans and some kick arse boots. I hope there’s laughter, I’ll toast you from here, to wherever you are. Missed, still.

Always missed.


  1. This made me cry, how we miss my stars in the sky xx

  2. what a beautiful tribute beth!
    much love m:)X

  3. Oh Beth. You’ve put your feelings into words so beautifully here. ❤️❤️❤️❤️ Love and sorrow, it’s heartwrenching that they are so intimately connected.

  4. Beautifully written very moving tribute Beth.
    You very cleverly just put into words exactly how I’ll be prompted to stop & absorb a moment while thinking of all the dead people I know that can’t…keeps everything in perspective and them alive. x

  5. Gosh this hit me hard. My dearest darling Grandma passed away a year in April. Gosh I miss her. X

  6. Hits home. Hard.
    We all have not enough time on this earth, and some seemed to be even more so robbed.

  7. Beautiful words Beth and a wonderful reminder to be present and soak it all in. X

  8. Lisa Mckenzie says

    This made me weep Beth,especially when I think about my Mum who’ll be gone for two whole years in June,how she would have loved cuddling my daughters baby when they are born and yet things must go on the sun comes up everyday and the seasons change and yep I get you Xx

  9. Oh shit! I’ve got big, huge gloopy tears rolling down my cheek. This is written so beautifully Beth. Today is the day my Mum was buried 30 years ago when I was 16, every word of this rings so true. Live your fullest life and honour those we’ve loved and lost. I feel your pain Beth and those little reminders mean she’ll always be with you. Xxx hugs to you and to Amelia’s beautiful family.

  10. Beautiful words Beth…….. I hope that one day I am lucky enough to have a friend like you say such heartfelt words about me. I know the sadness of losing a friend, I just wish I could have your gift of expressing my thoughts of her as you have done.

  11. Oh my heart.

  12. Oh Beth! Heavy emotional days in life are often learning days, or so it seems. I’m sorry you lost your friend, not many people say that. I’ve always thought friends are the ones that choose one another, so the loss IS truly profound!
    When my mum was in her thirties she lost her best friend suddenly. I was about 10 at the time and I remember her grief being so real, I felt so sad for her. Mum still remembers her to us, and I’m sure their friendship has continued in the way that only the universe understands.
    Hold on tight and remember the joy.
    Liz XO

    • Thank you Liz. My Mum lost one of her friends too – to cancer when I was young and it was freighting and real. Remember it so clearly.

  13. Much love and thank you for reminding to appreciate the small things.

    Much love Beth xoxo

  14. Lauren @fairview_farmhouse says

    Beautiful words Beth. Going back to that original post and re-reading that had me feeling all the feelings. Big hugs xo

  15. Awww beautiful tribute! I always think of my Grandma when I swim in the ocean and think far out she isn’t ever going to experience this again. Or maybe she can whenever she wants?

  16. Amanda (Archie Lane) says

    Oh Beth your two posts I have caught up on today have bought tears. I have been having some tough days of late and it feels right I am reading these today.

    Thank you – there is joy in the simple and the memories xx


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