Category Archives: Letting Go

Dear Kat: What Life Is Like Now That You Are Gone

Dear Kat: What Life Is Like Now That You Are Gone

It’s absurd how often I think about you now that you are gone; every casual conversation we ever had an exchange of words I did not realise would cement themselves in the place you no longer are.

Your passing apprised me with the fragility of human existence, and the profound impact interactions could have well after their moment had ceased to be anything more than recollections.

A million words are incoherently strewn in my brain, wishing to string themselves together and sound out like notes to your ears, to fill you with the Love that is owed to all who live -not only to those who have left us behind. I view the warmth of affection as a blanket of selfishness I swaddled myself in, and feel myself imploding with the knowledge that I can no longer infuse you with emotions.

If our true human connections were to be viewed as a single piece of jewelry, then your place around my wrist would have been a sparkling gem I did not pay attention to until your casing was without stone. Now all I see is the empty space in which nothing will ever fit as appropriately, a vacant gap as dull as the darkness that blinded you and a thousand words remain unspoken…
-except the air hears them all: the unoccupied car seat as I barrel along the highway with a melody that chokes of your memory, the way I envision you in my room when all I can think about is how there is no elegant way to describe death, nor the loss of the companions you learn to love along the way and my God I hope you know I loved you

And thank you. The little pieces of yourself that you have left behind are enough to help feel closer to you whenever there is a lacking; the way you laid yourself out was a patchwork manner in which we could piece you together when we no longer knew where to look for you. With the haze of hurt slowly subsiding, and the reality of a life without you settling in your words become clearer, your truth becomes louder…

Yet still it is as if every memory I access ties itself to you, and of a multitude of neural fragments yours stab the sharpest until you are a migraine I do not want to be rid of. It would be me who fell to my knees now, if only I could see you! Neither of us recognised the importance of your existence when your lungs still took air, in death you embody all that it means to have taken things for granted. You were an inspiration in the most subtle way, that our very conversations encouraged entire poetic pieces without me ever attributing the significance to who you were to me. In hindsight, my writings have rarely ever taken shape without tragedy. How ironic then, that we find ourselves here. Do I find you here?

Too many of the things I love have chords of you hidden in the tune, speaking through the lyrics and so I no longer know how to listen without hearing you. Yet lately Kat, it seems evermore to me that this life is beautiful: it feels as though I have gone through chrysalis to emerge with wings that you will never see in flight, and I only wonder how bright your wings would have been had you envisioned the darkness as encasing a beginning rather than the cocoon of a curse. Oh, my Skittles! Sometimes I taste the rainbow, and only hope that you have found the pot of gold at The End… ♥


I Am Going To Learn Dutch!

It is approaching midnight on a Tuesday and it is with unnecessary enthusiasm that I embrace this idea, as if windmills themselves have sent fairies on a one way flight of fancy straight to my susceptible self.
Well, of course I should learn Dutch. As a direct descendant of Dutch lineage, it only makes sense that I should begin my lessons on a Tuesday evening in the middle of July. And, after all, I am capable of speaking Afrikaans -it isn’t that much of a stepping stone required to bridge the gap. It’s not like Afrikaans is a derivative of Dutch, sufficient to aid me in communicating with the locals when I visit Amsterdam at the end of this year, no. Dutch is the way to go. 

It is this realisation that has my friend’s words from earlier this week dawning on me like the Planet of the Apes. “Do you know what you should do, Amy? Just start a blog. Every time you have an idea, make a decision or change your plans, blog it. That way you can stop telling me and I can just read it online. And after three months, you can look back over the posts and see how often you change your mind!”. As we were beside the ruins of a castle in the English countryside at the time, his words were as empty as the abandoned building behind us. If you place a ditzy dreamer in a landscape where her imagination can turn old ruins into new possibilities, naturally her mental chalice is going to overflow with imagery and illusions that will find her drunk with sentiment. And we have all heard of Dutch Courage… I succumb to the rush as I firmly believe I am capable of building my castles in the air, that I will follow the path I have forged in that moment with unwavering dedication. Besides, I do not know what state of indecision he refers to -perhaps the Massage Therapy course I longed to take earlier that year, but have abandoned in search of more sustainable dreams? Or could he be speaking of the way I changed the date of my plane ticket not once, but twice before finally returning to the UK? Is it my constant alteration of my intended field of employment, or the instability regarding a constant postcode? Or could it be how I cannot decide whether to visit Amsterdam whilst the summer still sheds a glimmer of the sun? Amsterdam! Oh, I really ought to learn Dutch…

And as my head drifts in the clouds, the reality of his words ground me with an undesired sobriety. I would be inclined to suggest he is right, but it is common knowledge (which he will sternly reinforce) that he is seldom wrong. And so it’s almost midnight on a Tuesday, and PERHAPS I will learn Dutch. But not tonight, as I sense a dreamer’s hangover approaching.  En er zijn geen koffie winkels in de buurt!