letter to a far country…

Hiya Bab,

Today I just need to talk to you because I have nothing and everything to say. It seems a bit daft writing you a letter. But I thought of all the ones I sent to you when I was overseas far from post boxes – via someone to post in X or pass onto Y – and figured its not really all that different…

I wish I knew where you are, whether you can see this or hear me. I know you would send me a postcard or call me if you could! It helps when I think you’re happy, with nan and grandad, your brother and J sitting around a kitchen table with a cuppa and bacon sandwiches. But I know in the last years you stopped believing you’d see them again, and that made it much harder for me to believe. I kind of hope that it turned out you were wrong!

There are days when I just cannot bear the thought of not seeing you for so so long. You only died 2 months ago. Even writing the words down doesn’t make it seem all that real. When I do the maths as to how many times that I need to wait before maybe I get to see you again…. well I’m just not sure it is possible.

There are days when things seem hard but manageable, and others when the sheer weight of loss takes me by surprise. I think of all the deaths you had to come to terms with and wonder how you did it. I’m not sure you really ever did and that is a scary thought. I don’t want to feel like this forever.

Watching the news about a bomb and shootings in Norway made me cry. Suddenly it occurred to me what the number of dead really means. That each one represents a group of people with their lives utterly transformed, going through this quagmire. It is funny how we forget that eh? We get deadened to death on TV. I guess otherwise we would weep for the world every day.

Mum’s away for a few weeks so I am rattling around the house on my own. The days seem very long with no work, no one around and not much to do. It is odd that my days are no longer punctuated with calls from you. An early wakeup this morning is making the day seem even longer – I’m all at sixes and sevens and it’s not even midday.

T is visiting his family so I am also without my usual hang out buddy. Of course there are lots of things I could constructively be doing but so far I have failed to persuade myself to do any of them. You would probably tell me that I need to go get out and boogie!

I think about how lonely you must have been through the months when you couldn’t go out, sat in your chair waiting for people to finish work or call. Then I wonder whether I should’ve taken that last contract – but I know you would tell me I was a silly bugger for the very thought and I’ve promised myself not to do the guilt thing. That way madness lies and I figure I have enough stuff to feel bad about without adding more to my plate.

There is a stunning bright blue sky outside my window and it’s the kind of day when we would go on an adventure, maybe up the mountain then out for lunch.  I wish we could go and get you a breakfast baguette and you could laugh at me for looking for low fat options in a greasy spoon cafe. I miss you teasing me for my taste for ‘cricket’s elbow’ tea as M calls it… and using long words…. and talking fancy. It is funny how I miss even the things that used to make me nuts…. I’ll try to remember that next time mum is making me nuts!

I wish I could tell you about the job offer (as usual, having been all ‘now, now, now,’ they’ve gone very quiet – its always hurry up and wait with them!). You would be dead jealous that I might get to add a few more countries to my list.

It is sad how things have ended with S. I know you would say that he did not have the bollocks to handle me and that I can do better. That was always your standard response to any ending. Your irrational bias about my love life used to make me crazy – anyone I was no longer with became the enemy no matter what the circumstances were. But I kind of loved that you were always on my side even though my side was sometimes the wrong side!

Part of me really wanted things with him to work out, if only because you’d met him. Does that sound crazy? Yes I think it does but the idea of someone becoming the centre of my life without you getting the chance to eyeball them feels all wrong – so I wish I’d got my ducks lined up before you went and I know you wanted to feel like someone else would look after me when you no longer could. But sometimes finding someone to love it much trickier than it sounds bab. I know you know that.

How’s the view from up there if you are up there? Can you see any perfect men puttering around down here? Okay okay its a poor joke but it would make you laugh. Somehow you would make heaven into a toilet joke so no quips I can come up with could compete for poor taste.

Writing to you has actually helped me even if it is just words in the ether. My tears have stopped and I’m imagining you reading between the lines – you always were more interested in what I was not saying… smart.

The problem is that there are ten thousand things I want to say so there doesn’t seem to be any way to end this letter. I know, I know, life is outside waiting to be lived so I will summarise – I love you, I miss you – and now I’ll go get on with my day.


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7 Responses to letter to a far country…

  1. Oh, this is sad. Two months is no time at all. I know exactly what you mean about having someone who is always on your side. It means such a lot and you must miss that very much (along with everything else you so simply and eloquently describe).

  2. Sorry we got cut off on the phone! Hubby is sorting out my new phone as I write so hopefully that will be the last time it happens. Lovely to get home and be able to read this though. Ah, my dear, a huge hug. I read a Wordsworth sonnet tonight in the book I was telling you about (it’s called ‘When Parents Die’). I thought you would appreciate the poem, particularly as it is about wanting to share a moment with someone who is dead (though in this case a lover rather than a parent I would guess), so here it is:

    Surprised by joy – impatient as the wind
    I turned to share the transport – Oh! with whom
    But thee, deep buried in the silent tomb…
    That thought’s return
    Was the worst pang that sorrow ever bore
    Save one, one only, when I stood forlorn,
    Knowing my heart’s best treasure was no more;
    That neither present time, nor years unborn
    Could to my sight that heavenly face restore.

  3. Karishma says:

    Your writing is beautiful! This one brought tears to my eyes; anyone reading can really feel the emotion it came out of.
    Sending lots of hugs your way…

  4. JJ says:

    I’m being hard headed and reading this at the office (smiles a bit) but with a bit success in fighting back tears. I see myself doing this one day….writing her telling her how my day went and how things are. Thanks for sharing.

    • Hello Joanne, waiting to hear your news and hoping it is at least at the better end of bad news. Wondering whether should add some kind of ‘do not read in the office’ disclaimer to the weepier posts… 🙂

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