A Letter.

Dear G.

Writing this is ridiculous and you of all people would be the last person who would want me to write this.  I am sorry. I cannot help it. There are things I need to work through and I only do this in writing. Why on such a public forum and not just in a diary? Because I love the drama and so do you – ha! No or yes and no, such a public forum because it will force me to write this rather than carrying the words around in my head.

You are dead my friend and you have been so for nearly seven years. It still bothers me. As I am approaching a new decade, I am spasming out about getting older while simultaneously realising that you will never reach this point. You would have reached this – last year and I am pretty certain you would have been icy cool about it. There are times that I wonder what you would be like now, how a more grown-up you would view the world. I imagine that you would have calmed down a bit, found yourself a man and settled down. Brunches, coffees, books, music, travel, outdoors, wine, candles, films – the good life.

That is what saddens me – I look at how life has rolled on since you passed and by gum, I think you would have loved it. The first babies are arriving G, and in my mind’s eye you pull faces at them from a safe distance, with a glass of wine in your hand. Winking at me – glad that the baby is not yours! They are still little now but when they get older you would have been great with them: drawing pictures, arts and crafts, singing songs… How frustrating that you are no longer here.

You know I was writing about you or writing about us after you. A painful two year process and suddenly this crazy ironic thing happened which has blown my whole piece to ashes. You would have laughed at the irony and told me to move on. You don’t want this play at all I know. But I do G. I need this play, I need to write this play with every fiber of my being. I never quite understood what happened all those years ago and I am trying to make sense of it. I never will make sense of it – fine. Perhaps I am trying to create something out of the emotions it triggered.

It has been a long time but if I don’t finish this, there will be another thing associated with you unfinished. I am getting old G! I need to move on and I can only do this by finishing this friggin play, I am sick and tired of it but it haunts me. Your death haunts me which was never your intention I am sure but it happened.

So let me finish this and then I will let you go my friend: we’ll drink one last glass of champagne and then we’ll say goodbye. Deal?

Love Friendship and Death

Walking down the stairs, carrying my bag, determined that I would no longer bear another insult; I heard the clicking of my heels on concrete and was surprised at the silence around. Yet the silence in the eye of the storm is deafening.

After weeks of stress and deliberation, came the straw that broke the camel’s back… So as I walked out of the building, I walked out on a relationship with a man who I once simply adored.

Today, exactly six months later, I am typing this from my livingroom in Canary Wharf where I have moved in with a friend. The flat is gorgeous and the balcony overlooks the Thames which reflects the lights of the offices.

I have landed on my feet and very grateful to have done so. This is mostly ( if not solely for the first few weeks) through the infallible net of friends who have drawn around me. If anything teaches you to stay in touch with people, despite life itself, it is the time that your life crumbles.

I write because this is what I do best. ( Amongst other things 😉 you should see me… knit *blink*) Straight after that day in April, I started writing a one woman show. It had 3 chord guitar songs, funny anecdotes: the lot. I performed it at a theater festival ( a competition) back home and the audience loved it. Great reception, great reviews, I was sure they were going to ask me back to the next round! I prepped, wished, believed, prayed: this was a sign, there was a reason to have left the man I adored! That phonecall on Sunday was going to change my life!

That phonecall never came. Obviously. ( Would I be writing this if it did?)

There were tears, there was cursing, my poor mother had to hear a rant about why God didn’t want me to do something with my life (no. really.) then there was silent acceptance. Then there was my friend Sura who simply said: ‘You just try again. Until you give up or until you die – you just start again. It is that simple.’

When I met her the day after with a soul-hangover, she suggested that I should write again. Everyday a little bit. This blog has been dormant for a while, but I agree that I should probably write. Everyday a little bit.

Today the phone did ring and one of my close friends from home told me his father has just been diagnosed with terminal cancer. He has been given only a few more months; I think God can prioritise his complaint letter over mine…

Today that call hit it home: Until you give up or until you die – you simply start again.