Letter to Gen

I am sorry it has taken me so long to write to you. Its been a bit of a journey since you left and it has taken me since you died to work out that I needed to carry on and that I needed to write to you. You understand it in writing, I know that so why have I continued to talk to you in my head where you can’t hear or understand me?

I think I just won the competition for the longest processing delay in the Universe. You can award me the prize. You’ll like that.  It’s been 2017 days or 5 years, 9 months, 7 days. (I know you think that’s hilarious). I am the one that’s supposed to be good at processing right? I sometimes couldn’t even remember to give you a day or an hour. Your patience is 2017 times bigger than mine. It always was. I miss you.

This week we are in Australia. We’ve just finished four delivery days. Its been tough to keep you with me all the way, not because I don’t love you being here, but because I do. The world is brighter. How can I explain? It’s like the feeling on your skin when the sun warms up slowly and adjusts it temperature to just the right level, its the way you feel when you are in a room on your own and we go away, its like music and light and dancing and postcodes and being with Grace the horse, when she is cantering. It’s special. It’s the best. I miss you.

We’re on the other side of the world, can you believe that? The work is the same and the people all have accents. You love it and we talk about it at lunch time. So much is the same, the ummmm game works and I hear your delight and the tinkle of your laughter as you watch them stuck in the land of no rules. They know you know something they don’t know. You know they  won’t be as brave as you and just ask. “you know something I don’t know.... what is it......”? Nothing changes. Only distance. It feels as though your brightness is harder to find. I miss you when it fades. I miss you more when you shine brilliantly. 

This time James helped me. No one replaces you but he did a great job. Even telling you that makes the hair stand up on my arms. He was brave and brilliant and you spun and sang in the sunlight he cast. He worked with so much courage and placed so much trust in us to help him navigate his story safely. We talked about it all the way home, you told me that you thought you loved him. I know you did, another beautiful mind another beautiful soul warmed slightly by the generosity of your teaching. You asked me if I had noticed the many subtleties of how incredibly clever he is, you asked whether I think they noticed and as always I said I hope so. I really hope so. I always hope so. My hope is never as radiant as yours. I miss it. I am less without it, without you. 

You don’t know this bit. This bit of the story goes beyond you. This is the reason for my letter. I have told everyone but I have not told you. I failed you...... and it hurts. 

I have learned to tell it. The story of my ultimate failure to read the obvious. “She”, “me” who knew so much but understood so little. 

This week James made his I pad play the Doctor who theme tune as he handed out badges to welcome people to understanding him - you - us - people. You walked beside us.  We’d sent the group backwards and forwards in time to sort things out for him in a way that made sense, you loved it and ..... we / I nearly got it right. 

The tune finished too soon and I rushed to make it better. I tapped the i pad to replay. You knew he needed it to be just as it was. You called out to me to stop, but I didn’t, couldn't, wouldn’t and it was too much for him. He faltered completely at a loss because the I pad was his and mine was the ultimate violation. You recognise that right? A heartbeat too slow to understand the significance of my action or in your case a heart beat too slow to recognise the significance of inaction. Same mistake... different year, different person, different outcome.. same story.

So, history repeats itself. My understanding coming on the synchophated beat, a heart beat away from doing the right thing and what he / you needed most. 

I am sorry I didn’t come. I am sorry I replied to your text with texts. I am sorry for your loss. You paid the ultimate price. I learned the ultimate lesson and despite the cost of the mistake I continue to make it. You, as always, continue to walk beside me in trust and faith and confidence that I will find my way and will translate you to them..... them to them. 

Yup, we are in Australia this week. We are back out there now, telling it like it needs to be told and I hold you tight. You gave me you to carry with me. I do the best job I can. It’s not enough, but right now it’s the best I can do and still stay standing.  They love you as much as they always did, I love you as much as I always did. I miss you, they love you... nothing so much has changed. Lets go.... the break is over and it’s time to get back to it.....I am not crying. Promise........

xxx