FRIDAY

Dear John

Watching one of your films that you recorded.  So painful.  Twenty nine years of your companionship, watching television programmes together.  Watching a film jointly, being able to comment on things, give an opinion, share an observation or a joke.

Trying to differentiate again between my loss and yours.  I may one day have someone else to watch a film with, if only a friend.  But they will never be you, will never have your insight, your humour.  So my loss is real and sad, because you meant so much to me, you were so much of a person.

But your loss is intolerable to think of.  You will never see that film, or any other, again.  You wanted to watch it, but you are just gone.  No-where on the planet.  Not in Australia, not in China.  Not away on a long holiday, not taking a break.  Not having left me and being with someone else, still alive.  Just entirely and completely absent from the world.

The brain cells that made up your being, the synapses that were your thoughts – stilled, disintegrating into atoms, no longer at that ‘level of complexity of matter’ that I’ve always believed is what defines life.

And so I can’t cope with my own mortality, the fact that all my thoughts and emotions will be stilled too.  Who knows when?

But the Friday night is still happening, John.  I have to live through it.

Fridays we were generally at home together, and they were always happy.  Always that ‘thank God it’s Friday’ feeling at the end of the week.  So often we would have a ‘cold spread’ of food together, then watch comedies.

This isn’t my first Friday night without you.  I have tried to keep busy so as not to think about how things were.

I have no choice, John, I have to adjust to a new reality, of Friday nights without you.  But oh, watching your film, all on my own, I miss you so much, I can’t bear it.

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