Work Text:
“I love you so much. I am so sorry you have to wake up to this news. In case other notifications don’t make it clear, to not prolong the inevitable, Liam passed away tonight. It’s fully confirmed. The fandom is really really heavy with grief. I love you so much.”
I sit here, and I stare at the cursor. It winks and winks and winks. I watch it disappear and reappear, and search for meaning in its urgency. It probes me to write, to express this sudden void. It presses on my senses, a constant humming, causing words to swell and fade out in the moments of silence.
What would I say if words were infinite. If every feeling had a graspable description. If every loss made absolute sense.
I built you up in my stories, I made you strong, protective, vast. I gave you adventure, purpose, discipline, love. I made you headstrong and argumentative. I imagined a world where you were supported, held close, respected. I envisioned all these things for you. You were more than simple words on a page, in a story that few read. You were more than fiction, or fantasy, or a genre that helped me escape.
You were tangible, and lost, and hurting.
You were loved. In roaring fashion. In quiet murmurs. In memories of many childhoods. You were a beacon of light for those in your life, those who now mourn you.
I don’t pretend to understand their loss, when I can barely comprehend the complexities of my own. I loved you silently, for saving my life, for bringing me a family that made me feel whole and seen. For showing me ways to harness my creativity, for breathing words alongside chords that resonated with so many.
They say: ‘hurt people, hurt people’, but everyone is deserving of redemption. My sister was equally tormented by addiction, it ruptured my family. It took years for forgiveness to root itself. She had time to build and mend the broken fences of our relationship. She healed and she gained. She returned to me when I found you, and in you I could see her demons. Perhaps not comparable on surface level, it runs deeper.
Through you I learned grace, and understanding. I learned that humanity was fallible, and that forgiveness equaled strength. I learned that addiction was suffering, and that a world without patience and tenderness was a world I didn’t want to live in. So, with you in mind, I spoke with my family and I urged my father to make contact. I got my sister back. This is something I never thought I’d share, but I wanted it known what you’d done for me.
I’m so sorry the world got too loud with its cruelty. I’m sorry that those who loved you so dearly couldn’t shield you from it, no matter how hard they tried.
I want to continue writing about you, yet I don’t think I can. I want to be strong enough to breathe life into someone that is no longer there, and yet the thought of changing any minor thing about you now feels rudimentary and undeserving. You were flawed, and those who succeeded in pointing out those flaws failed spectacularly in recognizing their own. I feel sorry for them. It’s the simplest way to word it. Beyond the anger, beyond the disgust, is a deep sense of pity. I pity them because they invite the darkness, they invite the chaos that this life could sincerely do without.
Others will try to guilt the grief. Make it comparable. It isn’t, and has no right to be. Each moment in time that causes an event such as this, may be felt and expressed however it chooses to. To blame others for their agony in a matter that is deeply personal and complex, is rather frightful. To be in a present world where opinions are so easily given, and care so devastatingly lacking, is a travesty. It’s a failure of humanity that seems to know no end.
It is true that people die every day, strangers to us, loved by others. Tears can be shed for all, movements started, voices raised. Grief is not a simple and linear construct, though. A shared space created on the basis of love for a group, a band, or a person should freely be able to express their devastation, their loss, and their confusion. Shame should never factor into something so raw and so honest.
We continue to fail one another when we form comparisons on how grief should look, or feel, or be expressed. We continue to fail each other when we create expectation, or outrage, or mockery.
Let people hurt.
Let people process.
Let people heal.
Grief is a beautiful thing, when it’s shared. You created a space for me where I can mourn your passing, a place where I will be held, and loved, and cared for. You did so completely unaware.
You gave this to me. This gift for life, this hunger for more, this passion to continue living each day to its fullest. You showed me that life is simply too short to have regrets over what could’ve been.
I will forever be grateful to you and all that you’ve done.
I sit here alone as I write this, but I’m not truly alone. I feel the ache of all those I love, and who love me in return, I feel the empty pit inside of me, but I also feel an indescribable warmth in my chest. And with it, I know I’m being thought of. That the people I care for, who are oceans away, that they’re thinking of me and one another, as I think of them.
I will forever be grateful that the news was shared with me so gently, and with so much raw compassion. That it was sent by another that loved you dearly. God, how lucky am I?
How lucky am I to have found you when I needed you most.
Your laughter still echoes in my thoughts over tinny speakers, and I feel whole. Your art still floats by in my mind's eye when I seek inspiration. Your words still beat alongside my heart when everything around me is silent.
Isn’t it odd that I’ve still not said your name? In all my posts, in all my comments and texts, even out loud.
Liam.
Liam James Payne.
That felt final. It’s really happened, hasn’t it? This is our new reality now.
My hands are shaking.
I said your name, and now my eyes are burning.
It’s really, finitely, real.
The air I breathe feels different, the wind through the trees sounds different. The morning birds did not sing on Thursday, 17th October. As if they wanted to prolong my rest, procrastinate the news.
I thought I was still dreaming as I read that text.
Admittedly, I’d been fearing it for a while now. Dreading it. It was exactly as I’d despairingly envisioned it. That I’d wake with a weight on my chest, that I’d roll over in bed and see my phone, full to bursting with notifications. That I’d scroll to the one name I trusted most to give me the news as if she were ripping off a bandaid, because she knows I hate surprises, and she knows how delicate such a thing needs to be.
Four years ago, I told my mum that if anything ever happened to either of you boys…I’d simply break. Since then I’d found my people, I’d built a new life and support structure, and found unapologetic love in them.
I’m in fragments, but those fragments have been exchanged for my loved ones’ fragments, and so we carry each other's broken pieces, so they’re never lost. And one day, when we’re ready, we’ll slowly reassemble one another. And each missing piece will carry the essence of profound love, care, and understanding.
We will be whole with the memory of you, and all that you’ve given us.
I hope that in time, those you’ve hurt will heal and find forgiveness in themselves. That your legacy will be shaped by the good you’ve done, and all that you tried to mend with what little time you had.
It is not for me to hold you accountable, it’s not my place. It is not for me to forgive you, and pass judgement on those who need time to.
It’s for me to choose to love you.
And I do.
And I always will.
If only for saving my life.
And I’m one in a million.
Thank you, always, for the memories. For making me laugh, for making me cry, even for making me cringe. We are not immune to those moments, we’re just not held to a standard, in the public eye, as you were.
You are not the sum of your actions.
You were a child, a lover, a brother, a son, a father, an artist, a singer.
A soul.
You were human.
In every fallible sense of the word.
You were simply human.
Rest gently.
You will be so missed.
Live on in memory, live strong in spirit, live fondly in our hearts.
Sweet dreams, Liam James Payne.
Cara xx