You are the first person I’ve seen love my Mam. Before you, I didn’t witness it, from outside the family. Without that security for my Mam, I wouldn’t have upped and travelled or lived overseas.

During Gran’s last days, you stood firmly by Mam’s side and took care of me and the siblings. Where others would have walked away, you remained. And since then, hurdle after hurdle, you’ve stood by our tribe. That doesn’t mean you have no faults, and you know that legendary grumpiness is acceptable, even if you’ve had to tolerate me trying to get you to see and hear the music that I choose to share.

You’ve left a great impression on me. I didn’t need a father figure or a step dad. I found you to be the positivity and heart for my Mam. You’ve taken Mam overseas to countless theatre shows, pottered with pottery, tinkered with theatre, and travelled around this green isle. Fond memories stretched from caravan holidays in Anglesey to York for Yorkshire puddings stuffed with everything under the sun. You’ve opened doors to strange worlds of ice music, penguins, and crappy musical adaptations of miracles on New York streets. I wouldn’t change the world for these experiences. And, you’ve encouraged my growth for passion in hiking and wandering. Even if my body is catching up with me!

I told you and truly mean it, I want you in our family and my family. Time won’t allow much more togetherness, but have bo regrets. It is what it is. Like you said, we can’t grab false hopes and expect miracles. We can make it known about peace and love and letting your life stay with those you’ll leave. I wish I’d called by and kicked you out of a slumber, but I can’t change the last few hectic weeks. It wouldn’t have made today any less unpleasant. I just hope we can talk over these coming days.

And yes, these last few weeks have been agonising, and communication has broken down, but that doesn’t excuse being there for one another. Mam is there for you, stronger than ever before, and I’m around for natters and hopes and dreams. Nobody wants to say goodbye. It isn’t goodbye. Not yet. Only when you’re ready. I don’t want you to suffer. Nor do I want you to worry about Mam. Your sister is always welcome. We’ll all be stronger together because you need to be celebrated and championed. I hope tonight that you find calmness and a good sleep before we all visit again. There’s still time for talking.

What is strength? Is it the power not to lash out when anger fills your veins?

Is strength an illusion? A label to wrap up fear?

Is strength useful? Or a blind to allow all else to carry on?

For what good is strength when hope feels distant? Is it an alarm to carry on the conversation?

Peace and love. 🐝 🕊

This is not an obituary! This is a letter from the heart. Thank you for being present in our lives.