#6 Dear Steve
Steve was my best friend and losing him is the the most painful experience I have ever gone through in my life.
It has been my intention for some years to write a book as a series of letters to him of all the things I have wanted to talk to him about. All the things I want to ask. All the family experiences he’s missed. I think it will tell a story, a sort of memoir of our lives together, but also show people how to come through grief and live again.
From somewhere in the ether
Any time in space
Dear ))) Sis, (((
it makes me laugh that people still talk of weather, complain about it, knowing it is out of their control. It’s just weather. I miss running in the wind, soaking up sun rays, the thrill of racing down snow covered mountains. I miss the contrast.
I see the world overwhelmed with too many choices and I see people allowing themselves to be too accessible all of the time so they are worn out, pulled in all directions. Confused and tired. Like they have no control over it and yet they do. So much more than they think.
The dopamine hits are quite something though from your technology. I see them light up in people when they get them. Royal blue in colour. More and more and more they want. It’s addictive but they don’t realise and can’t get enough. Then they wonder why they don’t feel right. I might have been one of those people.
What it’s like here is difficult to describe. You use words down there like they mean something profound, like they explain everything but they can only capture a sliver of the meanings and magnificense of life.
Here we commune. All is connected. We watch and listen intreagued. At peace. Whole but curious. Waiting for connection.
You’re no crazier than anyone else. No crazier than you’ve ever been! Ha ha… I love to see crazy you. Vibrant you. Courageous and vulnerable you. I love to see you fulfilling your potential, listening to yourself and trusting your own intuition. I love to see you sparking up and getting it out.
I know you doubt yourself still. I know the bravery comes in waves and is followed by doubt. I know you think of giving up until the next wave hits and you carry on. Riding the waves is what you’re there to do. Up, down and round and round. Embracing it all. Allowing it all. FEELING it all.
The part that still doesn’t feel safe needs to be free to be. Don’t judge her. Hold her hand, get curious. Play. She needs to play and rest and rest and play and dance with life. Not for it, not against it but with it and through it.
I’m glad you can see the gift in Luke’s death. The freedom it gave you to be completely yourself rather than a potted version of Karen. I am so proud of you Sis.
You are so funny. You love those boys to their bones. You know it! And they’re getting ready. I am so pleased you are not pushing them away. You have learned so much as a mother. Keep loving them Karen. Remember to keep loving them.
I’m sorry I let you down. My friends called me out on my grief. I remember telling you this. Maybe I was trying to do the same for you? I was just happy to be back. I told you I knew something was going to bring me back from Japan. Maybe I just wanted it but didn’t have the guts to admit it having commitments there.
I will be with you both tomorrow as Ashley has his surgery. Remember to connect with me. I’ll be holding you, supporting you, loving you.
))) Stephen (((
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