Jam

When you don’t want to say good bye you say farewell, hug, wave one last time and then make jam at 4am with all the people who also can’t process the emotions caused by someone’s absence.

We started with strawberry jam, and then started to make a mixed berry jam. We were in for the long haul. Not ready to go back to bed. While waiting for the fruit to simmer I noticed the baileys sitting a top the fridge with a bow around its neck. As if it was a gift saying ‘drink me’. And what was the harm, I was drowning in sorrow anyway, why not add a drink?

I added three. Baileys, Prosecco and Limoncello make an interesting combination. Not enough to get me drunk but enough to make me warm and soft. Less hard edges to cut other people with.

And the alcohol made one friend more confident. Sharing what she usually only says to one person with the whole room. I love looking after my friends and looking after drunk friends is no exception.

There a certain honesty in the kind of drunk someone gets when they’re melancholy. A certain way people reveal what is truly important and valuable to them.

And at 6am with a few drinks, some preserves and some good friends who were also trying to say goodbye a few hours after our friend had gone I knew that what I value is their presence in my life.

Unconditionally and with no limit of if they’re there in person or simply through messages and postcards. Because we’re never saying goodbye. We’re always going to be saying farewell over jam.

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