Saturday, April 16, 2016

i want the routine with you and i want the madness with you. i want all of it with you.

What I didn’t say to Friday in my goodbye card:
Meeting you feels like one of those pivotal moments where everything changed for the better (I am forever greatful for locking myself out that day; and for your home-made dinners, for lifts home, for girls nights out, for gymnastics and swimming lessons, for city days, for walks around Greensy, Christmas celebrations and mulled wine). Thank you
I love your kids like my own and inhaling L’s scent, reading to X, having ‘sleepovers’ in bed, making potions and experiments, answering questions about why cows pollute the earth or being told quite sternly - “I'm not a naughty boy, I made a naughty choice” - are some of my most life giving memories. I feel so honoured to witness the degree of patience, consideration and courage you have in bringing up your children; constantly questioning your actions and beliefs and striving to be better. The world needs more parents like you and I am immensely proud of the humans they are (becoming)
Your family is one of the reasons I wake up in the morning and a strong deterrent to suicide (knowing that I will see you next year, probably at an old English platform with a huge grin and open arms, gives me hope that whatever happens, you'll be waiting on the other side)

Your advice and support has been absolutely invaluable to my recovery, resilience, self worth and development over the past year and a half; there are so many traits of yours that I wish to model and soak up in the hope of being half as amazing, driven and selfless as you

Whenever we'd go to the shops or the park together, I'd secretly hope that we’d be mistaken as a family

Part of me will always love you (saying goodbye to you in one of the hardest things I've ever done)