15/05/2024
Grief is a funny old thing.
3 and a half years ago I lost one of the most important people in my life. When we met he was my boss but he soon became much more than that, a mixture of friend, family, teacher and secret keeper.
I carry a lot of guilt from his death, he died during one of the lockdowns and he died without anybody there who loved him. Deep down I know that I couldn’t have been with him but it doesn’t make it any easier.
I have a lot of his things, some are treasured possessions but others less so like piles of paperwork which needed to be disposed of safely. For some reason I’ve found it really hard to let those go. However, for some reason last night felt right.
As I sorted through the piles of paperwork and scraps of paper, I found myself shedding tears at shopping lists in his handwriting scrawled on the back of envelopes, his order from the Chinese takeaway because he always ordered the same thing and it brought memories flooding back and a note saying what date and time I would arrive at festival we were working at many years ago.
I’m slightly embarrassed to admit I’ve kept an old list of things he wanted to buy from Toolstation and a few notes written about me. It’s so so nice to have his handwriting.
The rest of the paperwork was fed to the fire with some tears. While it burned, I toasted him with some which seemed only fitting.
I’ve lost count of the evenings him and I spent around of fire sharing a whisky or 4 in years gone by.
I know wherever he is now he would have been laughing at the ridiculousness of me sobbing over old receipts and invoices and he would be telling me to pull myself together.
Afterwards Greg used the fire to cook our dinner over which felt so right.