Dear Andy
Thanks so much for seeing me yesterday. I’m sure facing visitors at this point must be hugely painful, and the effort you made to receive an old friend was deeply appreciated. Thanks too for the parting kiss. It’s a moment I won’t forget, weed and advancing years notwithstanding.
Also the sudden strength in your voice when you called out as I was leaving the room, and I spun around in the corridor mid-stride to raise my hand in a farewell that turned somehow into an almost Roman salute. At that distance, in the fading daylight I caught your silhouette with your hand raised in reply and Catullus came echoing down the centuries: “et in perpetuum, frater, ave atque vale”. Except that poor fucker never had the chance to say it in person.
I guess there are two kind of brother: those we’re born with, and those we acquire along the way. I’m so thankful we acquired each other so early on in our adult lives. Your brotherhood, warmth, understanding, support, friendship and sheer hospitality have been a constant in my life these past 29 years. Whenever there were breaks, we always picked up exactly where we left off.
And while we’re at it, thank you once again for converting all those videotapes of my family and other animals. It was clear (even then) that your reserves of energy were limited, and that you were in constant physical pain. It was a wonderful gift on your part to summon up all your old care, thoroughness and attention to detail to hand me back such a precious slice of my life. It meant a lot.
M. was still out in the car park with her mobile phone when I left you, and we sat and talked awhile. You’re right, she’s truly special and I’m only mortified not to have remembered meeting her on those previous occasions. God knows, a friend like her is a blessing indeed. She also asked whether I was a Quaker. Erm, sort of, I mumbled. So did I believe in an afterlife ? Erm, sort of. About 15 years ago I got interested in the whole Near Death Experience bsiness and read up on interviews with people who’d been clinically dead and then resuscitated: the usual themes of floating outside one’s body and the famous tunnel of light. It’s an appealing idea.
I dunno. A lot of it smacks of transatlantic new age mumbo jumbo, with a massive dollop of Wishful Thinking thrown in. Maybe it’s just hallucinations caused by the brain being starved of oxygen. Maybe it’s absolutely true. Who can possibly know ? But there is one measurable, real-world outcome: the majority of people who’ve been through a Near Death Experience say they’re no longer the least bit afraid of dying. Regardless of anything else, to me that’s an absolutely fascinating fact.
Finally, please forgive me if all this is a bit too touchyfeely and over the top. My other brothers (the ones I was born with) sometimes cringe when my clumsy attempts to get close go beyond their comfort zone. That’s why a letter seemed the best way of saying all of this so it’s your choice whether to read it quickly, slowly, partially, or not at all. All options fine with me, and (needless to say) no reply needed.
All my love, dear friend – now and always
Sunday 9th March 2003
In loving memory of Andy Barnett and his former partner Dez Tozer
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