25/12/2023
Eleven years. Nothing to say really. Nothing new to report. Grief is still a constant companion. The hurt doesn't just go away. You can pretend that everything is normal but normal left us a long time ago.
I have nothing new to report because there are no new things to share. All we have is imagination; we can imagine what he might look like now, eleven years on. We can imagine what he might be doing now as we follow his peers' progress with fondness. We can imagine how his relationship with his niece may look and visualise his bantering with Francis as their lives continue to nudge each other with humour and love.
Forever young Rowan.
Looking back......
ROWAN
Although Rowie was only young when he died (nearly seventeen years of age), in many ways he was more mature than his years. He had an inner warmth, gentleness, and kindness. He often spoke of the samurai code of honour and his desire to live by their four simple rules: strength, respect, loyalty, and honour.
It was extremely rare that he ever criticized anyone. He never played the blame game. He was always the first to put his hand up if he had done something wrong. As Francis said at his funeral, “He was also the most honest person you could meet. Many times he would get up to a cheeky piece of mischief and own up to Sue pretty much before he finished!”
Most of us learn the blame game at a very early age: “Who, me? No, it was her!” Rowie never played that game even when he was young which, on analysis, is quite a clever concept. Blame someone else, and you’re in trouble; own up, and it’s pretty hard for anyone to get too grumpy.
Forgiveness was something Rowie was very good at too. He never bore a grudge. He wasn’t prone to sulking. Forgiveness is a present that we give ourselves. It is a conscious choice not to resent or plot revenge against someone else. By forgiving we aren’t minimizing the wrong that the offender may have done; we are just freeing ourselves of our own negative and damaging thoughts—thoughts that eat us up if we let them. Rowie never did. Sometimes when he talked to me, I felt like the child!
Francis said, “Rowan had the biggest heart. He was the glue in our family. He always knew what to say and to say it at the right time. With his gentle sense of humour and cheeky grin he would light up any room, be it classroom, lounge, pub, or party.”
Rowie was full of love. He loved openly, and he loved hard. His love had no limits . He loved his family totally and unconditionally. He loved his friends with an absolute commitment and loyalty. He wasn’t ashamed of admitting to loving you. His love wasn’t possessive, and it wasn’t based around conditions. There were no strings attached to his love. He just loved. He cried at sad movies. He cried at sad songs. This didn’t make him soppy or weak. He was stronger for carrying his heart openly.
He had a wicked sense of humour, one that quite frequently manifested itself when it might have better remained buried! Laughter was hugely important to him, and if something amused him, I’m afraid that stopping the bubbling up of mirth was completely impossible. His dimples would start forming, his eyes would light up, and he would laugh until tears rolled down his cheeks. I miss the sound of his laughter.
He certainly wasn’t perfect, but I’m thinking he was pretty damned close! Just think how much better a place the world would be if we could all love and forgive as easily as our beautiful, warm, and funny son.
AND THERE’S MORE…….
ROWAN
A subject I never get tired of and one that
stays in my head,
is that of a beautiful spirit, although departed,
not dead.
He lives on in the memory of others
In stories they like to tell
Personality plus, plus, plus
He cast an exquisite spell.
An inner warmth and kindness
And so many things remind us
Of the gentleness and constancy beyond his years
Of his humour abounding and loyalty to his peers.
Francis said of Rowan, “He had the biggest heart,”
“His grin would light up any room” and that was just the start.
A wicked sense of humour and laughter not far away.
His dimples would start forming, a wonderful display.
His eyes lit up and the laughter bubbled
And wherever he was he was completely untroubled.
“Laughter is good”, that’s what he believed,
“After crying with laughter, you feel so relieved”.
Tactile in every single way,
Rowan loved hugging and physical display.
He would hug Chris and I and Francis too.
He would hug his friends, no chance to misconstrue.
His intent was pure, he loved family and friends alike.
No offence ever taken; no-one showed any dislike.
“Music’s for dancing to” he said many times,
As he pranced around doing parodies to tunes and rhymes.
There was nothing more joyful than seeing his face,
As the music lit his soul and he began to embrace
The rhythm of the tune, drums, guitar, or bassoon.
His newest passion before he died
was the piano he had wanted which was eventually supplied.
Self-taught, he began to find the music unfurled
One specific song his favourite, it was Jules “Mad World”.
The summer he died was one of the best:
We were in honesty, truly blessed.
Warm, scented mornings and long sultry nights.
This summer provided so many delights.
Finding a beach in the early dawn.
Lazy afternoon chilling on the lawn.
Getting together with the rest of the pack
For evenings of fun celebrating the fact
That ahead lay the holidays, no element of misgiving.
Christmas, New Year, party time, life is for living.
Although his summer was brief, it was fun.
Cut off really before it had begun.
The time that he had was filled with love and joy;
Memories lasting that death could never destroy.
