I wrote the following eleven days ago and never finished or posted it. After I’ve posted this, I will begin a post for today, Christmas Eve.
| Tuesday, 13 December 2005 [12:25 a.m.]: Hi there, Keith! Tonight at dusk a bird was singing a beautiful song. Beautiful things, natural things always make me think of you. And I wished you were here so that we could hear it together. Tonight it’s occurred to me that we did hear it together because you are so much with me that what I see and hear, you do too. I’m sure that some people will find that odd but then they didn’t know you and they didn’t know the way that we were together. I wound up being your chronicler, your (reaches for dictionary) amanuensis, your secret friend. Nobody knew how you’d wake up in the middle of the night, sleepless from the pain, and ‘phone me or get me on Messenger. Poor old Ken would go off, finally, to sleep and you, like a naughty boy with a secret, would ring me up. Nobody realised how you needed me – to make sense of your life, to relive your life, to come to terms with your life. I was special to you and that’s pretty damn amazing. You know that I’ve been in awe of you but I am not any longer. You are no less fantastic, no less special than you ever were but now I see myself in the way that you wanted me to. Other than Jessie, there was only me to be there for you in that way – your adoring disciple at your feet, hanging on every word. And now the research. So you have knocked me out and it took awhile but here I am a brand new person and all because of you. Hon, it was awesome. And with the trip there is plenty more to come! We complimented each other, didn’t we? Nothing worked out the way that I wanted but, apart from your illness, maybe everything worked out the way that it should have. I feel a bit sad to say that, but at the same time it is a joyful thing. I was there for you when you needed me and you were there for me when I needed a good, swift kick up the bum (needed it for years) and now I can stop being the willing victim. But there is something that I still need to learn from you. I’ve been walking around doing this slow burn for decades. I’ve gotten angrier and angrier (and, sadly, ruder and ruder). It’s got to stop, I have to let it go, I have to learn to be more like you. Actually, not just in the anger department, but in all ways – I have to take on-board your approach to things. You were never, ever rude. We are both spontaneous, generous and, in some ways, child-like. And naïve. But I can be angry and rude and you, you precious thing, you never were. |
posted by Susan @ 9:04 pm
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