Love, airflown

It's been kind of a rough week.  One of our favourite uncles passed away very suddenly and the world seems like a different place; some strange and soundless change in the air.  

Amid all the craziness, a package arrived from Australia, from Beck.  When we were in Secondary School, we were in a group of five extremely close knit friends.  We lived in each others' pockets and spent hours together in person and on the phone every day.  One day, Becky made us beautiful thread friendship bracelets that we wore constantly, like characters out of Pretty Little Liars.  Over time, some of those friendships disintegrated, while others grew stronger, but I continued to wear that bracelet religiously.

I left it on when I exercised or went swimming or on holiday.  In the shower, I liked to watch the way the string would go stiff with soap and to mould the bracelet into waves with my fingers.  I pulled on the clear blue bead on the end when I was anxious, rolled the thread between my fingers when I was bored.  Beck has since bought me other things, and I wear that bracelet less and less, but I cling to it, as I do our deep and special bond.  And a couple of weeks ago, when I noticed the thread around the bead start to fray, I begged her to make me another one.

Well, she made me three, complete with crazy instructions and an amazing card that made me cry.

There is a fishtail braided one, a diamond flecked one with a tiny hematite heart a thicker (and therefore stronger), but otherwise almost perfect replica of the original.

Losing a loved one is painful and brutal.  But it means that you had a loved one to begin with.  And sometimes, what keeps us going is that feeling of loving, being loved, and of knowing that we are privileged enough to have people in our lives that care deeply for us, even if they only stay for a short while.  

Rest in peace, Uncle Was.  You live on in my heart.

And thank you Beck, for your undying love and friendship, this year and every other.