Late last night I arrived on Lewis's doorstep. He had just got in and was wet from riding his bike in the rain. The gas heater was making a weird humming noise. He had a beer and we watched the live psychic readings show on TV where middle aged single women ring up and basically get conned and we laughed about how silly and sad it all was. We missed 2am because of daylight savings and went straight to sleep at 3am and we stayed in bed until 1PM. We talked about mostly everything then we got up and we had toast and coffee. I made the toast and buttered his with vegemite and mine with peanut butter and jam. He made the coffee and frothed the milk and gave the better one to me. We stood back to back in the small kitchen doing these things, like always. We sat side by side in our woollen jumpers eating quietly, holding hands. When we were done, I laid down on my belly in the middle of the floor mixing and tweaking a new song while he sat on the bed in the next room plucking a ukulele. I could hear him all through the house when I stopped re-singing harmonies and took the headphones off. I walked into the bedroom to be beside him while he fiddled around and we complained and consoled each other about the work that needs to be done by both of us before the year is through. His little sister poked her nose over the window sill from the outside, calling our names then running away.
Lewis and his friends lost a good friend of theirs cruelly, and tragically, yesterday; a person whom I never had the pleasure of meeting due to his extended stay in Vietnam, but have heard countless stories about, recalled fondly and sweetly by Lew and by all those who will miss him. Previously I've found that taking things in small steps is the only way to make it through the unexpected hurdles in life. An hour, a day, a week at a time, just letting things wash over you, and prioritising, not sweating the small stuff and leaning on your friends and family will get you through mostly anything. That's what Lewis did today and last night, and I watched, feeling somewhat helpless, but not once wishing I was anywhere but lying right there in the middle of his floor, listening to him play funny jazz on a ukulele just down the hall.
I just told you about what I did today and last night because I will hold those little precious seconds close, like we've just been reminded to do, like I should have been doing since I first learnt about memories and how to keep them alive. I won't go a day again without telling the people I love that I do love them, very much. This has been a pretty personal post and I only write it because I feel compelled to spread the word;
do not not tell people that you love them, ever. Even say it too much, like an over protective mother, anything is better than not saying it enough.
.jpg)
