Author Emily Gunnis’s mother, the bestselling novelist Penny Vincenzi, died last year. Here Emily shares what she has learned in the time in-between
On 25 February 2019, it was the first anniversary of the death of my mother, Penny Vincenzi.
I have learned over the past year that it’s all about the firsts; you are desperate to get these over with. Your first birthday without the person who gave birth to you, the first children’s birthday party without her there marvelling at the rather unremarkable things your offspring are doing, the first Christmas without her French onionsoup and overly laden brandy butter, the first anniversary of her death.
But the minute the firsts are over with, you are desperate to call them back. To be closer to the time when you could still hear her laugh, smell her perfume in the next room, feel her energy. When her number was still one of the most recent calls on your phone.
The irony is that, professionally, it has probably been the best year of my life. My debut novel has come out in eBook and is due out in paperback in this month.
So far, it’s done better than I dared hope. But, emotionally, this year has definitely been the worst and I’m struggling with all the classic symptoms of grief: insomnia, exhaustion, irritability, spontaneously bursting into tears at the most inappropriate moments, all while trying to write Book Two with half a brain and attempting to feel joy about finally finding my niche in life. And the person I most want to talk to about it all isn’t here.
This story is from the May 2019 edition of Woman & Home.
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This story is from the May 2019 edition of Woman & Home.
Start your 7-day Magzter GOLD free trial to access thousands of curated premium stories, and 8,500+ magazines and newspapers.
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