Dear Sarah

I cannot thank you enough for the home and life you gave me, especially the love and care you sheltered me in for 21 years. It’s been truly fantastic. I know that you’ve fought through countless battles and would always come out on top, whether you lost or won them – your flawless optimism overpowered the chances. Undoubtedly, you’ve been the greatest gift to my family and me, because your free-spirited mind and motherly knack had always been so warm, so welcoming and so understanding.

Whenever you were down, we had always been by your side – even now. And through the years, you’ve taught me valuable lessons: you’ve shown me the things that an individual doesn’t see, but yourself; you’ve told me to take people as they come, and if they were brought up in such a way, you said to embrace it and believe that somewhere deep inside their soul, there is a light, waiting to be found – it was only a matter of time until that right person or event was to surface that.

You always had that ‘sixth sense’ about people. It may have not been absolutely 100%, but you were close to see through people. That sort of brushed off onto me, but unfortunately weakened as I grew older. I became blind to people’s entities. I’d end up trusting the wrong people, even when you warned me to be careful of them. It would only take one little pin-prick, and they would turn. I’d return to you, a mess, tell you the hell I went through, and you’d only say “I warned you, sweetheart”. Nodding, I knew I should’ve known better. I guess it was always in me. I wanted to impress, and by doing so, I would bite my tongue and let myself be pushed around. As those times became regular, a dangerous energy infested me, I soon became something so disapproving; my scathing anger was the result of my heart’s enragement. I would fight. I would hurt. It pained you, I knew it did. I heard it in your voice whenever I came back to tell you about it. You said I held a passionate nature that always wanted to seek acceptance, only because the idea of being lost frightened me. You knew I’d go about, silently, keeping my opinions to myself, until finally, I exploded. Bottling up thoughts is and will always be the worst thing to do.

So now, here I am, writing you a letter, telling you that I love you, reminding myself what is to come. I could always ask you what I should do, but you’re going to look at me and say “Embrace it, my darling”. Although, you already have, and I’ve shook my head in denial. I don’t want to go back; I’m here for a reason. I’m here for you – all of us are.

You’ve been amazing to me, and I cannot thank you enough for the life you’ve given me. You’ll be missed deeply – always and forever.

Lots of love from

Matt

Green Tea and Winter

Afternoon bloggers & readers,

How is everyone? Especially my American and Canadian audience; my prayers go out to those who are fighting the aftermath of Hurricane Sandy; stay strong and have hope.

So today I’m writing to you, with a nice cup of green tea, and England’s “beautiful dazzling weather shining” outside my window tending my side. As the seasons slowly fade into each other, my hibernation mode starts to creep in; I am constantly tired. I recall the last time I wrote to you, I was complaining I was tired and lacking my promises for some sweet art, and somewhat poetry. Honestly, I am struggling against two elements: laziness and low self-esteem. Family issues is weighing on me – will always be a valid excuse to the time where I’m able to accept the reality. I am just so bloody tired… exhausted, fatigued. I wish I could sleep a full night without waking up or being disturbed.

It’s dragging on us, it really is… I don’t think our ill family member… you know, will be able to take on a few more days. They’re far too weak now, it’s difficult, painful and hard to even see the reality. I wish to just pinch myself and be returned to reality, only to be a sick delusion. But it’s not. I know I seem pessimistic, but this is true, it’s in my face; I see it everyday, every second and minute, to every hour of the day; it withers not only myself, but my entire family. Imagine: you ask an adult what is the worst thing that could happen? They’d reply “Losing a child, or a family member who’s close to you”. It would apply the same way to a child. It’s painful.

The more I rant, the more I type, the more I think, I get even more tired. I’m not even hungry, and my sister has been so kind to cook tonight; I don’t want to disappoint her by not being able to eat dinner.

I have just stared at my screen for about 20 minutes, unable to think of anything… I really need to get this day over and done with. I apologise bloggers and readers for my lack of effort and etiquette.

– Matt

A Little Update

So, our family member has recently come out of the operating theatre in order to remove and slow down the process of further spreading. They’ll be kept in until they’re fit enough to be ‘checked out’. My brother, Matt, is coping. I can’t say much about him in this moment and time, because he’s a little unpredictable – and to say he’s fine would be an irrational understatement. Both are being well looked after, and that’s what matters. We’re receiving plenty of support from friends, family and readers; and I thank them all so much. It’s very tough, and at times, I do find myself struggling to put on a brave face. But to let my guard down now would possibly mean I’d let down my brother and family. This, I don’t want to do and they too wouldn’t want me to let go.

It seems a lot of people I know are in hospital. For example, my brother’s girlfriend has been taken to hospital, for she too has had bodily malfunctions. I wish the best for them and her, too. Oh, it’s so awful. Do forgive me for my woes, it’s the only place to allow the mind to release the stress.

– Natasha

Terminal

Dear those that this message may concern,

I’m writing yet another message regarding some rather devastating news. However, I shall let you know this first: Matt has been awake for the past week now, which is great progress, but has suffered a rather moderate turn and has been moved to another ward to recuperate. What contributed to this, is that over this weekend, my brother, myself and the family had been informed that a family member has fallen ill with terminal cancer. As you could imagine, it has torn our hearts apart.

The doctor has said 6 months, max. Operations are going to take place in order to slow down the process, and chemo sessions. It’s all a matter of time, sadly.

I thank and welcome you all for your condolences, best of wishes and prayers in this time of struggle. Also, thank you for your time and patience to read this and offer your say.

Sincerely

– Natasha