When I woke up on Sunday, I didn't expect one phone call to effect me the way it did. But it's true, the facts are out there, everyone knows now. You're gone. And I hope you realise what a positive effect you had on people's lives.
You were the definition of grabbing life by the balls, it was true when I used to say to you you're never in one country long enough, almost like you were scared of growing roots, and with that, you touched every life you came into contact with. Whether it was India, or Devon, or France, you were always in my mind in the box firmly named "people to remember". You were going places, obviously in true Mike style, you didn't do it the way anyone else did, but you were doing it, and you were an inspiration and for that, I thank you.
You taught me what it's like to believe in your self, even if your plan is shit. I remember getting drunk at Emily's and us deciding it would be a top class idea to go to the park and you kept pushing me into hedges because I couldn't walk straight, and yet you still said it was the best plan ever (even though, let's admit it, it was chucking it down and we both had a cold afterwards). Plus you never needed fizzy pop to get giddy with me. You were a star. I could go on for days/weeks/months about the funny memories, peppered with bitter sweet nostalgia, but none of that will bring you back. And that's all I want. Even if, just to hear you dog whistle to me from the other side of the canteen, which, by the way, still not cool. The more I write, the more memories are coming back, the more I want to smile, and cry, and laugh, and just generally miss you. I was so lucky to even have you in my life, and I know people always say this at the passing of a loved one, but in this case, it's genuinely true; you were the most genuine person I ever knew. You told me straight when I was wrong in an alcohol fuelled argument, and you told me you loved me when you knew all I needed was a hug. God, what I'd give for another one of those hugs. Or even a head massage in the shitty canteen while we share 75p potato wedges. (Bet the prices have gone up and I bet we would both throw tantrums about that).
It's such a horrible time, for all involved, and my heart 100% goes out to your family. I keep wanting to scream "it's not fair!" And cry and shout and break things, but I know you'd just look at me, call me a dickhead and tell me to chill out. And so I'm doing it your way, just like you did. I'm going to educate myself on the Mike way of life and I'm going to live my life to the fullest, because it know it's what you would of wanted us to do.
It's hard to grieve when everything seems a bit hazy. Big Sandj keeps coming out with all these really shit cliches that just make me cringe, as they used to do you, and all I'm left with is the bits and bobs of huge stupid Scottish sayings that join together like a jig saw. "You don't get over grief, you get through it." Which is true, but like those sayings, I feel like my adolescent jig saw is now missing a piece, a piece that was destined for bigger and brighter things than what Blackburn could ever provide. A piece that shone too bright, and burnt out too quick.
This is getting harder and harder to write, but as I get to the crux of it, it really hurts knowing you're not here. I miss you, more than I would ever admit to you. And I love you, definitely far more than I would ever admit to you! I didn't realise that grief would be such a physical ache, there are moments when I forget, and I feel elated, and then I remember, and I cry all over again. I know I've said it, but I miss you Mike, and joking aside, I hope you knew how dearly I loved you. OLSJ/College bums forever.
My thoughts are with your family.
Rest in peace Michael Handley. 1993-2014.
No comments:
Post a Comment