A letter to the other side
After Googling myself the other day (and yes, I realise that is narcissistic), I have found a couple of things that I wrote around nine years ago which I thought I’d republish here.
This is a fictional letter to the other side, and it was one of the few pieces I wrote years ago that I really enjoyed writing and reading back.
It’s so hard writing this letter. After all those years that we didn’t speak, and all that time that we wasted when we could have kissed and made up so easily. It seems such a waste. I can’t even remember what the argument was about now - the one that caused the rift.
How trivial must it have been that it didn’t even leave an indelible mark in my memory? How stubborn were we both to simply shrug our shoulders and walk away from each other?
I don’t know what I hope to achieve with this letter. After all, you are never going to be able to read it, are you?
Perhaps I hope that by expressing my feelings, it will allow me some kind of release. A way out of this depressive place that seems to have become my home.
They say that there is a link between the physical and psychic worlds, and I can only hope that my feelings somehow reach you, and that I can tell you how truly sorry I am for making you miss out on so much.
It no longer pains me to admit that I was wrong about so many things. Never again will I feel your embrace which used to comfort me so much as a child, nor sit down to eat a family meal with the people that I loved most all remarking on what a great cook you were and how great it was that we were so lucky to all be together.
The grave looks fantastic by the way. Not too flashy, not too sombre. In fact, had we been speaking, I think it’s something we’d have agreed on. Not that we argued often, did we? Though granted, when we did, it was always a biggie.
God, I wish I could turn back time. If only things had been different. You wouldn’t have missed out on the birth of your only granddaughter. God mum, she’s beautiful now, though I’m sure by now that you’ve seen that for yourself. I know she gurgles away quite happily in her room, looking away at a corner and laughing when the only person in the room is on the opposite side.
It doesn’t take a genius to guess what she sees, and I know that you and I both believe in spirits, so you?ll be on the same train of thought as I am.
I saw the aftermath of the crash. I’m not surprised that nobody survived. It was gruesome. I don’t think I was supposed to get as close as I did - I saw them sweeping blood from the road for goodness sake - but on reflection I guess it helped me to say goodbye quicker than most.
I don’t remember too much of the day itself. It started innocently enough, just like any other day in fact. Nothing seems to knock you for six like being informed of a death though. Especially when it’s your own.
I have to go now mum, Purgatory is waiting. Take care of everyone for me.
Your loving angel