Wilf Red
18-01 2023 19:55
wrote:
Hi, I’m Wilf, I was John’s life partner cum surrogate parent cum best friend cum housemate cum handyman, etc. for nearly 20 years. This last year we were living apart but still co-joined, it was complicated, but seldom boring. This selfie is the last one he sent me that I really liked. I called him Shal, short for Shalroth, his Wiccan name.
I honesty don’t know what to say, except I’m moved by so many messages, and even though I was the one who found him, and even though it wasn’t entirely unexpected that this might happen one day, considering his many habitual excesses and resultant health struggles, I still can’t believe it, it feels like some kind of alternate reality, a split in time.
For anyone wondering what events led up to this, he was meant to be staying with me and two mutual friends over the holiday season, but, as was often the case with such plans, he started ‘celebrating early’ and fell silent behind locked doors.
His Christmas presents are still waiting, I’m kinda still waiting for the text that he’s feeling well enough to unwrap them. I got him something special because he’d been doing so well battling his demons all November and he really seemed to be turning a corner. I’m sure his workmates noticed this recent renewed vigour, a joy for living, a sense of purpose, something that had been sorely missing for far too long. At his best he was an angel amongst us, and it raised some real hope in me and all his closest friends that he was finally conquering his inner demons. We certainly all enjoyed seeing the old Shal once more. The real Shal.
When alone and in fine fettle, we mostly behaved like silly teenagers, watching old sci-fi shows that he knew off by heart, favourite movies, playing video games and eating processed nonsense under a shared fluffy blanket. Happy cozy times.
Even some of the bad times were kind of good, he loved a good cry.
We don’t exactly know what went so badly, suddenly wrong, but ever since, I’ve been locked in a constant loop of shoulda woulda coulda. Hindsight being 20/20 and all that.
Then tears. Then feeling sick. Then denial. Then a calm solemn acceptance, trying to recall the good memories whilst taking care of those needy things. A constant loop.
I hold many regrets from the times he slipped and I got too exasperated with his stubborn contrary ways to be ‘constructive’ with my criticisms, but right now, I mostly just wish I could’ve loved him more, because clearly he needed more love than I had to give.
But then again, ‘that’s enough for me thanks’ was never in his vocabulary.
As you used to say, Shal, I did love you, just in my own way, and besides, you loved enough for the both of us.
Goodbye sweetie.
Wilf Red
18-01 2023 19:55
wrote:
Hi, I’m Wilf, I was John’s life partner cum surrogate parent cum best friend cum housemate cum handyman, etc. for nearly 20 years. This last year we were living apart but still co-joined, it was complicated, but seldom boring. This selfie is the last one he sent me that I really liked. I called him Shal, short for Shalroth, his Wiccan name.
I honesty don’t know what to say, except I’m moved by so many messages, and even though I was the one who found him, and even though it wasn’t entirely unexpected that this might happen one day, considering his many habitual excesses and resultant health struggles, I still can’t believe it, it feels like some kind of alternate reality, a split in time.
For anyone wondering what events led up to this, he was meant to be staying with me and two mutual friends over the holiday season, but, as was often the case with such plans, he started ‘celebrating early’ and fell silent behind locked doors.
His Christmas presents are still waiting, I’m kinda still waiting for the text that he’s feeling well enough to unwrap them. I got him something special because he’d been doing so well battling his demons all November and he really seemed to be turning a corner. I’m sure his workmates noticed this recent renewed vigour, a joy for living, a sense of purpose, something that had been sorely missing for far too long. At his best he was an angel amongst us, and it raised some real hope in me and all his closest friends that he was finally conquering his inner demons. We certainly all enjoyed seeing the old Shal once more. The real Shal.
When alone and in fine fettle, we mostly behaved like silly teenagers, watching old sci-fi shows that he knew off by heart, favourite movies, playing video games and eating processed nonsense under a shared fluffy blanket. Happy cozy times.
Even some of the bad times were kind of good, he loved a good cry.
We don’t exactly know what went so badly, suddenly wrong, but ever since, I’ve been locked in a constant loop of shoulda woulda coulda. Hindsight being 20/20 and all that.
Then tears. Then feeling sick. Then denial. Then a calm solemn acceptance, trying to recall the good memories whilst taking care of those needy things. A constant loop.
I hold many regrets from the times he slipped and I got too exasperated with his stubborn contrary ways to be ‘constructive’ with my criticisms, but right now, I mostly just wish I could’ve loved him more, because clearly he needed more love than I had to give.
But then again, ‘that’s enough for me thanks’ was never in his vocabulary.
As you used to say, Shal, I did love you, just in my own way, and besides, you loved enough for the both of us.
Goodbye sweetie.
