Am I Doing Everything I Could Be?

Hello Grandad,

It's been a while since we've been in touch, what with you being dead and everything. I'm not great at keeping up a correspondence, and ordinarily I'd just call if I felt that I'd been neglecting you - but obviously that's out of the question now.

The reason I'm writing to you is... well, it started as a bit of whimsy. Since I decided to write this blog I've been mindful of a CD called 'The Juliet Letters'. (You'd like it, I think - although I suspect you'd find Elvis' vocal delivery a little jarring for your tastes.) One of the tracks begins like this:

"I thought I'd write to Juliet,
For she would understand,
And when somebody's already dead,
They can no longer let you down,"

... and I begin to think about which dead person I'd write to. Anybody at all, fact or fiction, and the only person I could think of was you. Why? I think it might, perversely, have something to do with the lines just quoted... but you never let me down once. I'm blessed that I have a strong and supportive family who all love me unconditionally, but I'm mindful of the fact that every single one of them (who's opinions I respect the most) still look to you as an inspiration. I understand why, of course - though you'd protest if we were to list your virtues. Let's just say that I'd have been honoured to know you in life, and I think I'm truly privileged to have been related to you and to have learned what I have from your example.

Then I started to think about myself, and inevitably started to compare myself to you. I know, I know... this would be the last thing that you'd want and you'd be tremendously proud of me anyway but I can't help it. As I grew older (and especially after your death) I came to understand more about you, your attitude to life, and the trying circumstances in which you lived. This, I think, is why you continue to be an inspiration to my family; and me as well (and it saddens me that I've never been able to properly thank you for this).

I just wanted to let you know that I've begin to notice some parallels between our lives. Not the obvious stuff, but it occurs to me that in our personal lives I've been through some stuff that I know you'd understand from experience, even though our eventual outcomes were wildly different. I just wondered how you managed it all so well? I know that you were a very proud man (uncharitable sorts might even mistake this for vanity), but you seemed to draw your sense of pride from those around you. It's different for me. I'm not saying that I'm ashamed of those around me, but sometimes I feel the need to be a little over-protective of them and I'm not sure that this comes from a good place. Like, I'm defending them because I'm aware of some flaws. Does this make me a bad person? It's not like these are big flaws; I'm not complicit in some huge lie or covering up some awful family secret. Everyone seems very happy in their own skin and would be horrified if they thought that I occasionally felt I needed to defend them, or explain why things are done in certain ways.

I've made some big mistakes in my life, Grandad. I think that you probably knew I was making them at the time, but told everyone to let me make them. Strangely, I do want to thank you for this - I think that I actually am older and wiser now - but I'm still suffering from the fallout of my mistakes.

I feel so utterly isolated. I know that I could pick up the phone right now and call my parents, or my Aunt and Uncle and I could talk to them until I dropped if I wanted to. I'm scared of my emotions, though. I know that I'd feel happy, and relieved, and sad, and angry all at the same time and I know it isn't healthy to keep all of this bottled up but right now everyone thinks that I'm fine and I don't want to change that. Instead, I'll stay in with the cat I've adopted (or is it inherited?) and use the wonders of modern technology to have a few chats with some friends, then go to sleep and repeat the endless cycle of work over again.

I feel that I need to make a big change. I've got a plan and it all seems workable - so what's stopping me?

I wish you were around. If I could speak to anyone, right now, it'd be you. Partly for the pearls of wisdom you'd doubtless dispense, but mostly because it would just be nice to speak to you again.

I still miss you. I think about you every day. I'm so sorry I never got to say goodbye properly, both before your death and at your funeral. However, I know what you'd tell me about regret so I'll just try to keep that in mind.

Lots of love,

P.