Dear Simon,
Guess what? I fixed that blocked drain in the bathroom. OK so I just poured some draino stuff down it, but then I had to do some poking around with a chopstick to get rid of some of the glunkier hair mass. (Why do our daughters have long hair? Why?) So don’t rain on my parade I FIXED something.
Your birds came to visit yesterday. It’s that time of year when you would be sitting on the back deck drinking your green tea before going to work. Apparently, the birds weren’t impressed with my company, they are clearly wondering where you (and the bird feed) have gone. I think the feed got chucked in the cleaning frenzy of your death, could have had something to do with the fact it had spilled in the cupboard.
Next week it will be six months since you left. It’s gone by in a split second, it’s dragged on for an eternity.
Half-a-year, can you believe that?
So long. So short.
I may have figured out the whole letter writing thing. Remember when you were in the Navy and would disappear for months on end? It was back in the olden days before the internet, and Skype and email, hell I don’t think mobile phones were even that common back then. So we had to rely on the old-fashioned written letter (and you finding payphones when you got to shore, preferably before you went to the pub and become incomprehensible). We wrote lots of letters. I’ve still got them. Couldn’t read them at the moment but they are still here somewhere in all the stuff I hoard.
I think I’m continuing that tradition of writing to you as if you are just off on deployment for a while, it still feels like I am really communicating with you. I just ignore the fact it is a bit of a one-sided conversation. But you were always a bit on the quiet side anyway. Of course now you’ve got to find time to read my letters up there in whatever paradise the creative mind conjures up upon death, and I’m sharing them with the entire world via the blog. Don’t over-react, I’m a very small-time blogger, there’s not that many people reading I promise. It’s not like I’ve told any of your secrets anyway. I haven’t mentioned you cried at that mini-series John Doyle wrote, Marking Time, or that you fell asleep in the INXS concert, or that you actually enjoyed it when I dragged you off to the theatre to see plays, or … well perhaps I should stop there.
I hope you are having a fun time up there.
Love
Janine.
Six months… As you say such a short time, and yet an eternity.
I think writing letters is very good for the thought process – it helps to get things into perspective and out of one’s head.
I think the letters are really helping at the moment. Thanks for all your lovely commenting.
That’s a beautiful piece, Neen.
Everything I type seems contrived and placating, and therefore stupid. I’ve typed and retyped and retyped again and just can’t find the right words.
So I’ll leave it at this: XOXOXO. A kiss and a hug each for you and your girls. (Feel free to multiply them if you need them, they’re free, and I’m happy to give as many as you need.)
No comment is contrived or placating, I value so much the fact that you are thinking of me and reading my little posts. And hugs and kisses are much appreciated!
Saving those Navy letters isn’t hoarding, it’s saving prescious memories. I have all of mine tucked away also.
You write so beautifully and capture what I remember of Simon. Hope it is not too long before you can pull those letters out and enjoy.
Thinking of you and the girls. K xx
We are lucky to have those letters.
Six months is really such a short time, but death creates a kind of time warp for a while. I’m glad you have your blogging to help you through this, and thanks for your generosity in sharing the stories.
A time warp – that’s the perfect description for it – exactly what it feels like.
PS. I forgot to say, love the lorikeets!
I can’t believe it’s been half a year already. I love these posts (don’t tell Simon!). They are such a touching blend of the minutiae of your life and the sweeping scope of your loss. Your writing is so beautiful… I hope it’s bringing you some comfort.
Thank you lovely Lauren.
Dear Simon,
She can’t believe it because she still wants you back. Right now, preferably. And you’re busy fishing where they’re biting. Long story short, Janine’s amazing. She’s fixing stuff, handling kids who are grieving and trying to succeed in school and sports, organizing the paperwork, and work for money. Oh, and figure out what’s for dinner. The birds can do without that bird seed. Janine’s busy!
You’re proud of her, I know.
Noreen
Love this Noreen.