Forty Two Years

Robert

1968-2010

Forty two years is how long we shared a path in the world. Forty two years. A long time, a lifetime. But not enough time.

I know that you fought and overcame so much and that it was time to find some rest and for that I understand why you let go. I know that now you aren’t in pain anymore and for that I’m glad. I know that being born into a family with you was a blessing and for that I am grateful. But the world without your strong, funny, gentle presence is a sadder, emptier place for those of us who are left behind and for that I am devastated.

In the end it was so sudden. Our last real conversations were about how you were looking forward to going home and in some ways I think it was better like this because I don’t know that there is a way to prepare for the loss, and the shock is no less if it comes fast or slow. There are no regrets about things unsaid. We loved you, you loved us. We all knew it. We all know it.

We sit here now, in this beautiful place we grew up in, and we talk about you. We try to be brave because you always were. We try not to think about the hole that you’ve left in going but the space you filled when you were here.

We remember the calm sweetness you brought into a room, the endearing mannerisms that were yours alone and the adventures we shared as both children and adults. We remark on the fact that we can’t think of anyone who met you who didn’t like you. You had a way of being able to talk to anyone and find some way of connecting. It was your special super power. And the flood of heartfelt messages to that effect from people whose lives you touched attests to this. We wonder at the reach and impact that you’ve had on the world and how even when you were sometimes infuriating because it seemed you gave too much of yourself to too many and it stretched you thin, you were impossible not to love and admire for that very quality. We think about what you liked and how you did things. Random things come to mind - a huge plate of prawns and a beer, a talent for painting that you unlocked only recently, your ability to father your son like you had some insider-info on how it should be done. We look out of the window at the sea you loved and the rocks you favoured for fishing and we imagine you there still. We cry. And we laugh. You always made us laugh.

Forty two years of memories of you is a gift. Forty two years of life well-lived and well-loved. Forty two years is a long time. But not enough time.

We miss you. I miss you.