Spring

T he wood anemones should be covering the ground by now, and as the days get longer, I feel that relief I always felt, that the darkness is over and we're heading into the light.

I used to look forward to it, but I'm too tired now. I know I haven't got long, son, but at least I'm content with what I'm leaving you.

I wanted to leave you a blank canvas, an empty space where you could start over from scratch, because there is nothing worse than the overwhelming grief of having to dispose of someone else's life. I'm leaving you with nothing to dispose of except for my wretched body, which your aunt Emma has made arrangements for. She will deal with whatever needs doing.

All I need you to do is to live, son, and live well. Sell this place and move on or turn it into whatever you want it to be, but promise me you will live and not just exist between these wretched walls. Promise me you will find someone to make you smile. You don't need things and clutter to make you happy. You just need someone to love you the way I've always loved you. I loved you from the day you first made your entrance into the world, and I will love you until I take my last breath. With all my heart. Know that.

Perhaps you'll one day think of your old man and send me some good thoughts. I'll be out there amongst the trees, blowing in the wind. I'll be sat on the hill amongst the wood anemones with a cup of coffee in my hand. If you ever want to find me, that's where I'll be.

I'm not worried, you'll be fine. You don't need me, you never did, and your Flora will keep an eye out for you. She promised me.

Live well.

Dad. x