As I was sitting in my patio, surrounded by a petrichor scent from wet trees, sipping on my lavender green tea, whilst the birds were humming I could not help the tears. 4 months. 4 long months since my Amy, my angel, my daughter was raised to the heavens. Remembering the memories with her makes my heart ache. But what keeps my heart at ease is knowing that she is at a better place. Far, far from the pain this world was causing her soul. I remember the day as if it was yesterday. The day I received the call. Whilst reading the newspaper, listening to the tinkling sounds as the rain drops battered the window, my phone rang. Andrew Morris. A call I do not receive often.
‘’Hello? Andrew? How is it going, I have been wanting to spe..’’
‘’Mr. Winehouse, I am at the house, but Amy’’ he stopped.
‘’Amy what? What are you saying Andrew?’’
‘’Speak clearly Andrew! What are you trying to say?’’
‘’She..She is no longer..’’ he mumbled.
I shut my eyes. Not wanting to hear the rest, he continued:
‘' I’m sorry. She is no longer with us’’.
Since then, my heart has been split into two pieces; one piece filled with memories, the other piece dyed with her. Everyday, I am constantly being reminded by Amy. Driving past the old house in Southgate London, I cannot help but hear her heartwarming laugh as she chases her brother around the house. Strolling past the park reminds me of her whining whilst stomping the floor furiously, as she eagerly insisted on going to the park to play with the birds, everyday after work. You see, remembering Amy is easy, I do it everyday. But missing her is a heartache that never goes away.