you would be turning 60 today, happy birthday!
in someways it's really easy to believe - i've always imagined you as the same age as my friends fathers, and they would all be hitting around that age.
on the other hand, it's so hard to believe, because it means that you have been dead longer than you lived. what a sad thought. theres so many sad thoughts, you never got to see your 30th birthday, you never got to see your girls grow up, how much the world must have changed since you last walked on it. but the saddest thought is that you've missed all of this because you made a bad choice.
i've never said anything like that, never blamed you, in fact, as mum tells me, i could be accused of putting you on a pedestal. and i will never, ever take you down from that pedestal, because i like the fact that i'm in a unique position where i can apply poetic licence to your life, but it is the simple fact, you made a bad choice.
i wont dwell on that, i don't dwell on your death because i do believe that old cliche of everything happening for a reason. 30 plus years on and i'm still not sure of the reason, but i suspect bec is a part of it along with a lot of lessons.
i always wonder if there are other people thinking of you on your birthday or your anniversary. these days if a 29 year old dies the people paying their respects at the funeral are overflowing out the doors. i don't know if your funeral was anything like that, but surely at 29 you had friends who still think of you from time to time.
i spoke to my cousins this year, asking them to think of you, which was silly because i know that they do, they all think about their uncle tim who they never got to know, and they think of him with his parents and brothers. nick proposed a toast to the brothers.
apparently it's 20 years since simon joined you, and around 15 since gar joined the party. now that mick is there to celebrate your 60th i can only imagine what you xavier boys are getting up to!
sometimes i wonder what it would be like if you were here. i imagine that you would be the same person, the one that ma describes, a lovable but hopeless hippy. you'd look like you did in photos, long hair and a mo, still stuck in the 70's with your clothing style - but luckily for you you make it work. i can't imagine you having a job, but you've travelled the country by working as a chef in weird and obscure places - you have a lot of stories to tell. for now you've settled in an old run down rented place in a suburb like prahran or st andrews. your friends are like minded people from all walks of life. half the time when i visit there's no power because you forgot to pay the bill but you've never cared for material things like a tv or a washing machine anyway, never the less visiting your house is always fun with the crazy mix of people who are always staying for a week or two. you're like me, more of an observer than the life of the party, but people fascinate you and if they take the time to get to know you they have a life long friend, you're still creative and my greatest teacher, you love music and art, but most of all you love to write and i gain endless inspiration from the thoughts you still write on the lounge room wall.
sometimes when i'm driving somewhere i play a scenario in my head where i'm driving to your house, you're having a party and everyones coming. ma and dougie included, because you're all great friends and my friends are coming too because they think you're fun and interesting, people are jamming in the lounge room, women chatting in the kitchen, everyone happy and having fun. it's like walking into the 70's.
i hope that your 60th is like that, wherever you are. a whole heap of people who love you for being you, just having fun.
i wanted to thank you for coming to me in my dream. the fact that you've only ever done it once and all you said were those words, those unbelievably important words, makes it all the more meaningful. i know in my heart that you either needed to tell me that you loved me, or that you felt that i was in a place where i needed to hear it. i want you to know that i know.
i know that you and ma weren't together when you died, but i know that you loved each other and i'm sure you cared for her. i wonder if you know just how much of an amazing a woman she is. how well she did bringing up me and emma on her own and how she turned her life around. i often think about what it would have been like in those weeks after you died. how hopeless everything must have felt for her and it makes me so proud to see where she is today. i hope that if you ever had the chance to say one thing to her it would be thank-you.
most of all, i hope you get the internet wherever you are because i don't know where to send this!
happy birthday daddy, love you, jandy xx