Saturday, 23 January 2010

This is for you

This is for you.  In the beginning I wrote this blog for me.  And after a short while I wrote it for me and the lovely people that read it.  But now, this last post, is for you.

This post is to say sorry.  This post is to tell you that you were missed and loved when I wrote all of this.  There is a line in a White Stripes song which goes "you think that not saying is the same as not lying, don't you?"  Well we both know its not. I was lying by not telling our story from before the start of this blog. And for that I am sorry.

If I can ask anything of you, which without a doubt I have no right to, I would like you to believe that what I felt for you was real. All of the love and warmth and laughter and care that I gave you was real.  I loved the way we laughed together.  I loved the way you relished my food.  I loved the ways in which you cared for me.  I loved all the stupid conversations and the serious ones.  I loved our doomed attempts to watch a film together.  I loved riding pillion behind you even when we ran out of petrol.  I loved the evenings at the pub and the barbeques in your garden.  I loved how you loved that crappy old car (forgive me for calling the car crappy).  I loved the fact that you could fix stuff and explain to me how stuff worked.  I loved your dedication to your child and I loved how you took my own children to your heart.  I loved it all.  I loved you.  You are always in my heart.

And yet I lied and cheated on you.  Its feeble to say but I never wanted to hurt you.  Of course that is exactly what I did and what I was always going to do by the course of action I took.  And for that I am deeply sorry.

In Wuthering Heights Cathy says of Heathcliffe "He is more myself than I am".  I always used to shiver when I read that.  In your case you are more the person that I was and that I would like to be again than I am.  You are kind and truthful and moral and decent.  I can only promise that I will learn and grow from this.

This is for you.  It is a present you cannot give back.  Please take it.  Look after yourself my Racer Boy.  Try to have little belief in our past even as you deal with the pain of it.