Dear friends, family and other interesting creatures,
Some bonds cannot be broken. Not even in death.
It may be 17 years since Tim died, but I had a very real sense of him yesterday. I could not understand why he lingered yesterday. Nothing out of the ordinary happened. Usually I am able to pin point an emotional from him, a smile, a look in his eye – yesterday I just felt him here.
He always visits, sitting on the right hand side of the bed, regardless of venue. Before he died, we had never even been in a bedroom together before.
Seeing Tim isn’t scary or creepy. It can be both comforting and heart breaking. Sometimes I smile, other times I feel renewed grief.
I am not big on “speaking to the dead”, or “crossing over”. I’m merely relating that somehow Tim keeps contact. Often followed up the next day or two in a quote or a song, an item that was of value only to us.
Have you ever experienced anything like this?
I wish you enough,
I’ve told you before. The thing with death is, I have no new pictures of you. So I had to improvise a little.
As I have been preparing for my Grahamstown festival trip next month, I could not help but think of you. Do you remember?
You were in school uniform. Matric blazer. I was sitting on the steps of the church on the square in Grahamstown. I went to a private school so no uniform. I remember I was wearing a very stretched out purple jersey and brown leather shoes I had bought at the festival.
(Remains the most expensive shoes I’ve ever owned. Haha! I would much rather buy books. I had no idea at the time how much purple was still to follow.)
The sun was setting.
You came and sat next to me. I had never seen you before. You sat, silently. I remember…
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