Was in Brighton yesterday with my daughter for the uni. open day. I love the city in all it's diversity, and fun sea-side-iness. So sorry to hear of your loss of your friend. Must be very bitter -sweet being back in the town. Best wishes.
Glad you enjoyed it. The sauna place is brilliant- it's called Sauna Box I think and it's near the new-ish outdoor pool heading towards the marina from the pier.
Oh Ros I wish I’d messaged you earlier!! I would have absolutely loved to meet for coffee. I was only in Brighton for a weekend as I’ve been staying with my family in Sussex and am heading back to LA on Tuesday.
Lovely post! Losing a dear friend must be a difficult experience. We share so much of our life with a girlfriend(s), and our inner thoughts and secrets go with them. Loved reading.
Thank you for the love! Alix was 18 when it first emerged. She was a freshman in college. She was prescribed Adderall right before she went, and the medication put her in a manic episode. Then she was diagnosed with an underlying bipolar disorder that none of us knew existed.
That must have been so challenging for her and you. I so often hear of disorders first emerging when young adults go to college. Having been on several different medications myself, I know how difficult they can be to get right.
She wanted to be a writer and took creative writing courses. After she died I discovered an unfinished novel, unfinished memoir and journals written on psychiatric wards. Thanks for asking about her!
Yes she had so much potential! Her short life still had meaning but I wish she had a longer one. Thank you for acknowledging all that she did accomplish!
So beautifully evocative. I felt Emily's presence as I moved around the streets of Brighton with you. You've done her well her, Emma. This is a lovely tribute.
Emma, your article is so poignant in its exploration of memory and loss, particularly the line, "Even though I know—as does my heart—that it’s impossible. Still hopes." This struck me profoundly. It makes me wonder: if our brains are designed to forget and adapt, and our hearts are aware of the impossibility of return, what primal human need does that lingering hope, that "still hopes," fulfill? Is it a crucial part of processing loss, a way our psyche gently carries us forward, or is it a testament to a love so deep it transcends logic? What exactly is the function of that persistent, illogical hope when faced with irreversible absence?
This question feels particularly potent because it touches on the very essence of human experience – our capacity for profound connection, the inevitability of loss, and our complex internal mechanisms for coping with that reality. Your writing beautifully illustrates this tension between knowing and feeling, between what is and what we wish could be.
Thank you Alexander for your thought provoking comment.
I’ve always thought of this ‘magical thinking’ as being a fault in the otherwise brilliant evolutionary process of love. We have to love each other, otherwise we won’t look out for one another, and we need community to survive. But still, it doesn’t seem to serve a primal need to be so profoundly impacted by grief.
I’ve always liked the idea that grief is love with nowhere to go. That’s how it feels, anyway. But I hope the phrase is wrong. I hope my love is going somewhere… even if I can’t be sure exactly where.
Oh Emma, this is just BEAUTIFUL and brought tears to my eyes. I know Brighton well, but even if I had never been there, this piece would have brought the city to life for me. Your words are just so evocative and you capture everything so beautifully. The city. The longing. The grief.
Emily is alive in your work. Thank you for sharing a little of her with us. And while she may not be here physically, she is clearly still everywhere. In the streets you once frequented. In the woman you’ve grown to be. In the way you carry her with such warmth and pride, still. Always. I’m so sorry she passed away, she sounds bloody fabulous. How lucky were you to have known her and to have had a friendship like that. 🫶🏻
PS: Next time you are back from LA and have more time, please drop a gal a message so we can drink hot chocolate in a creaky old cafe somewhere. X
Oh Kathy! Your comment made me cry! Thank you so much. I was so happy to see your name pop up, too 🥲
I always appreciate your support and friendship!
Funnily enough, I almost messaged you to meet up! I wish I had. I second guessed myself because I knew you’d just found out you were expecting and maybe wouldn’t want to meet with your internet Substack friend 🤣🤣
Next time I’m back, I promise I’ll message. Hot chocolate in a creaky cafe sounds blissful.
Ahh bless you. Yes absolutely do next time - it would be just gorgeous to meet you! All the love back at you too. Your writing, as always, is something else. 💛
Emma, I just wanted to say thank you for this. Your piece stopped me. I’ve never been to Brighton, but the way you wrote about returning to the pier, the streets, and the memories felt deeply familiar. I’ve done my own version of that walk, chasing echoes I both want to remember and can’t quite bear.
The line “Grief, I was learning, never really belonged to one person or one moment” is still sitting with me. You captured something hard to say out loud. I’m grateful you did. I love your writing.
I don’t think I’d want to go back right now… but maybe one day, I’ll find myself longing for the quiet, beautiful moments I’ve shared with my family. The way you wrote about how place and memory and love linger and ache really moved me. I could feel the salt in the air and the soft ghost of a friendship that clearly shaped so much of who you were.
Was in Brighton yesterday with my daughter for the uni. open day. I love the city in all it's diversity, and fun sea-side-iness. So sorry to hear of your loss of your friend. Must be very bitter -sweet being back in the town. Best wishes.
Thank you so much! A very kind comment.
How fun your daughter went to an open day. Brighton or Sussex? Both are great!
I also wrote about Brighton earlier this year if you're interested... https://yourhappierandhealthierlife.substack.com/p/stormy-seas-sauna-rituals-and-ghostbusters
Oh this was brilliant! Thank you for the laugh. It was just so unmistakably Brighton 🤣
The sauna centre sounds fab! I need to check that out next time I’m home
Glad you enjoyed it. The sauna place is brilliant- it's called Sauna Box I think and it's near the new-ish outdoor pool heading towards the marina from the pier.
Beautiful and evocative, as you are. Thank you for sharing these images, both indelible and ephemeral, of your past and present.
Thank you so much my friend! Sending you love! 🧡
You here now? Or is this a memory. I am so close to the bones of the old West Pier. We could meet and have a coffee.
Oh Ros I wish I’d messaged you earlier!! I would have absolutely loved to meet for coffee. I was only in Brighton for a weekend as I’ve been staying with my family in Sussex and am heading back to LA on Tuesday.
Next time I’m back I will definitely message you!
Such a lovely piece... and I feel the same about losing my friend Sarah xx
Thank you so much Donna. I’m very sorry for your loss xx
Lovely post! Losing a dear friend must be a difficult experience. We share so much of our life with a girlfriend(s), and our inner thoughts and secrets go with them. Loved reading.
Thank you so much ☺️
This is beautiful, Emma. 🩵
Aw, thank you, Chelsea! 🧡
I'd go back to have my daughter still alive and well. Before her bipolar disorder emerged.
How old was she when her bipolar disorder first emerged, Julie?
Sending you love 🧡
Thank you for the love! Alix was 18 when it first emerged. She was a freshman in college. She was prescribed Adderall right before she went, and the medication put her in a manic episode. Then she was diagnosed with an underlying bipolar disorder that none of us knew existed.
That must have been so challenging for her and you. I so often hear of disorders first emerging when young adults go to college. Having been on several different medications myself, I know how difficult they can be to get right.
What did Alix want to study at college?
She wanted to be a writer and took creative writing courses. After she died I discovered an unfinished novel, unfinished memoir and journals written on psychiatric wards. Thanks for asking about her!
Wow Julie! It sounds like she was a very accomplished young woman to have all that work at her age! 🧡
Yes she had so much potential! Her short life still had meaning but I wish she had a longer one. Thank you for acknowledging all that she did accomplish!
So beautifully evocative. I felt Emily's presence as I moved around the streets of Brighton with you. You've done her well her, Emma. This is a lovely tribute.
Thank you so much, Sheri. What a kind comment 🧡
Really gorgeous, took me there with you.
Thank you so much for taking the time to read my piece! I really appreciate it
Emma, your article is so poignant in its exploration of memory and loss, particularly the line, "Even though I know—as does my heart—that it’s impossible. Still hopes." This struck me profoundly. It makes me wonder: if our brains are designed to forget and adapt, and our hearts are aware of the impossibility of return, what primal human need does that lingering hope, that "still hopes," fulfill? Is it a crucial part of processing loss, a way our psyche gently carries us forward, or is it a testament to a love so deep it transcends logic? What exactly is the function of that persistent, illogical hope when faced with irreversible absence?
This question feels particularly potent because it touches on the very essence of human experience – our capacity for profound connection, the inevitability of loss, and our complex internal mechanisms for coping with that reality. Your writing beautifully illustrates this tension between knowing and feeling, between what is and what we wish could be.
Thank you Alexander for your thought provoking comment.
I’ve always thought of this ‘magical thinking’ as being a fault in the otherwise brilliant evolutionary process of love. We have to love each other, otherwise we won’t look out for one another, and we need community to survive. But still, it doesn’t seem to serve a primal need to be so profoundly impacted by grief.
I’ve always liked the idea that grief is love with nowhere to go. That’s how it feels, anyway. But I hope the phrase is wrong. I hope my love is going somewhere… even if I can’t be sure exactly where.
Oh Emma, this is just BEAUTIFUL and brought tears to my eyes. I know Brighton well, but even if I had never been there, this piece would have brought the city to life for me. Your words are just so evocative and you capture everything so beautifully. The city. The longing. The grief.
Emily is alive in your work. Thank you for sharing a little of her with us. And while she may not be here physically, she is clearly still everywhere. In the streets you once frequented. In the woman you’ve grown to be. In the way you carry her with such warmth and pride, still. Always. I’m so sorry she passed away, she sounds bloody fabulous. How lucky were you to have known her and to have had a friendship like that. 🫶🏻
PS: Next time you are back from LA and have more time, please drop a gal a message so we can drink hot chocolate in a creaky old cafe somewhere. X
Oh Kathy! Your comment made me cry! Thank you so much. I was so happy to see your name pop up, too 🥲
I always appreciate your support and friendship!
Funnily enough, I almost messaged you to meet up! I wish I had. I second guessed myself because I knew you’d just found out you were expecting and maybe wouldn’t want to meet with your internet Substack friend 🤣🤣
Next time I’m back, I promise I’ll message. Hot chocolate in a creaky cafe sounds blissful.
Sending you so much love xxx
Ahh bless you. Yes absolutely do next time - it would be just gorgeous to meet you! All the love back at you too. Your writing, as always, is something else. 💛
Thank you my friend! 🧡
Emma, I just wanted to say thank you for this. Your piece stopped me. I’ve never been to Brighton, but the way you wrote about returning to the pier, the streets, and the memories felt deeply familiar. I’ve done my own version of that walk, chasing echoes I both want to remember and can’t quite bear.
The line “Grief, I was learning, never really belonged to one person or one moment” is still sitting with me. You captured something hard to say out loud. I’m grateful you did. I love your writing.
– Susan
Thank you so much, Susan. Your comment means a lot to me.
Grief can be so hard to write about, yet it’s a feeling we will all one day be familiar with. I’m glad this piece reached you 🧡
I don’t think I’d want to go back right now… but maybe one day, I’ll find myself longing for the quiet, beautiful moments I’ve shared with my family. The way you wrote about how place and memory and love linger and ache really moved me. I could feel the salt in the air and the soft ghost of a friendship that clearly shaped so much of who you were.
Thank you so much my friend. I appreciate your lovely comment and your kind support of me! We are kindred sentimental souls 🧡
Such beautiful, heart felt writing. Sending love and hugs.
Thank you! 🙏🧡
This made me cry. I had only just put my mascara on. Now, as is ever the way, the day will be smudgy.
Brighton cobbles ghosts in every pebble.
Great writing.
Oh, thank you, Cherry. What a lovely comment. But sorry for making you cry!
You are quite right… Brighton is a city of ghosts 🧡🧡🧡