Dear Pop,

I'm not quite sure why I'm writing to you. Especially since I have no tangible way to send it you, not beyond the confidence that you know what's going on anyway. If that's true then there's not much point writing to you, is there? You already know my secrets, my desires, my truth. The truth is, Pop, I'm writing this letter more for me than you. I'm hoping it's going to provide the catharsis I need.

I miss you so much; I had no idea what grief was like until you were gone. When Grandma died I didn't feel any of this shit. But then I knew you more, deeper perhaps. Because of the Alzheimer's I never really knew my Grandma. I loved her so, you know that now better than anyone, but I didn't grieve the loss of her; I lost her when I was 12. But I always loved her, you know that right? Despite the fact that I was prepared for your death it still took me by surprise. It's like my head saw your frail body, dying in that shitty hospital bed but my heart saw your spirit, alive and stronger than ever. You could have been 22, not 92. I hate to admit it to you but from the day you went into hospital in November I knew what was coming; I knew you weren't long for this world. I suspect you did too. Visiting you in hospital was bittersweet. I wanted--needed--to see you everyday because I knew that soon I wouldn't have the chance. I felt so happy seeing you, just being in your presence, and at the same time so terrible because of the surrounds and what they ultimately meant. There you were, surrounded by sickness, death and shit and you still laughed and joked around when you were lucid. And when you weren't lucid, that day you thought we were in Coolangatta or some other faraway town, I have to admit I had a bit of a chuckle. I know you wouldn't mind, that's why I'm telling you all this. I couldn't tell anyone else that I laughed at you in your lowest hours--it sounds so cold even as I write it--but I don't think you would mind; you laughed at your own expense constantly. I knew you well enough to know that. When I talk about you and talk about these things, I feel self conscious because I don't want what I say to be taken the wrong way. I don't give a fuck if other people understand me or not, only that you'll understand.

I guess you know I'm gay by now. I wish I could have told you. Just between us, I even entertained the idea of telling you. But I thought better of it. Perhaps it was caution at work, perhaps cowardice, I don't know. I think you wouldn't care as long I was getting some. But there was always a niggling fear, like there is with anyone (I'm sure you can imagine what I'm talking about) so I didn't want to rock the boat. I didn't want to lose you when you were still here; I knew I'd loose you soon enough and I didn't want to bring it about earlier at my own hand. I couldn't handle that so I took the safe road. Forgive me, ok?

Have you been reading my blog? I don't know how it works up there. Do you like know everything suddenly? Do you continue learning, like in life? Do you get a choice? Either way, I think I need you to read it. There's a whole section dedicated to you, Pop. No-one else has that honour. Click on the link that says "Pop" on the right side and you'll see everything I've written about you. Actually, before you read my blog, go and learn about the internet. Perhaps in heaven you all have USB ports and you can download the info into your brains? That'd be cool. So absorb it through your USB cable or whatever, however it works up there. I know you'll be interested in it; you always loved knowing the ins and outs of new technology. I tried to explain it to you a few times and I think you got the gist of it, at the very least appreciate it. I knew that you not being able to grasp the entire concept wasn't because you didn't have the faculty for it; it was just a case of not needing to know it. Fuck, even I don't get the whole thing. You did pretty well, I have to admit, but since you're in a position to just totally "get it" now, better than any of use here, do us both a favour and read up. Then read the blog. I'd love to know what you think.

So I've started uni. You left before I had a chance to tell you about my marks in my course last year and well before any offers were made. I got 85% in last year's course and was offered a place to study for a Bachelor of Arts at Sydney. I'm doing two subjects this semester: intro sociology and intro linguistics. Linguistics is cool, really up my alley. Sociology on the other hand is a little tedious. I mean it's interesting, but in the way that documentaries are interesting. You know, like its cool to watch a documentary and learn new things and then never think of it again. But when you constantly have to read about it and write about it, then it gets a bit old. Oh, and I have to get the 7am train on Tuesdays and Thursdays. You always said I shouldn't sleep in so late, so now you've got your way. At least 2/7ths of the time. Go on, gloat away.

My health is very "fluctuatory" these days. I can make up words; you did it all the time. Saves time really, not having to use "propper english". Some days I feel great and others I feel like crap. My legs are tired and sore a lot of the time, but luckily the new medication and a good rest takes the edge off. I truly believe that going to uni is going to strengthen my body, even if I feel like shit in the short-term, because I'll be getting out there and doing stuff. I'm tired a lot these days, you know what that's like I know, and it sux doesn't it? The worst part is that I can't get my mind to shut off and you are all I can think about. Either you, or coming out to sister.

Not that thinking of you is bad, don't misunderstand me, but truth is that this whole grief business is bittersweet. Like take any given memory or situation that we shared, just the two of us, and think about for a second. Like remember when we went for a walk last July? The two of us in our winter jackets, scarves and walking sticks, ambling down the street side by side at a snails pace. Makes me smile at how funny we must have looked. Two little old men, one 92 and one 22, makes me smile every time. But after the smile and the warm feeling washes over me I feel an absence in my heart.

I know you weren't a big emotions guy, well you were but I think if I explained all this to you in person you'd be a little embarrassed. That's what I love about letters, you can be so much more honest than in real-life. I mean we all knew how much you loved Grandma and all of us. You told us so all the time. It broke my heart seeing that tear run down your cheek at Grandma's funeral. You hugged me hello and kissed my cheek goodbye. That's what I miss. That familial closeness. So when I think about the day with the "little old men walk", I smile for the closeness and cry for the distance.

As an abstract concept you are still here with me. I still love you; I always will. No amount of death or distance can take that away from me. Even in some small tangible way you have left vestiges of yourself here; you're on top of my television in a blue frame and on my filing cabinet, being held in place by two butterfly magnets. Your house is full of your life. But as an object (as opposed to a concept) you are gone. It does my head in thinking about it. Like poof, you just went away. Now all we have are relics and memories.

I'm not saying my grief for you is unique, or even the strongest grief that ever existed. It would be nice if it was; it would be a testament to your greatness, to your effect in my life. But, truthfully, I doubt it. I can't even imagine how Dad or my aunts and uncles feel. If this is my pain, what must there's be like? If you have any sway in the matter, help us to move on. Not forget you or "get over you". Just move past wanting the phase of your existence as an object to remain so that we can get to appreciating the phase where you are a concept.

I don't know if I'll write to you again. I guess it depends on how long this whole grief thing lasts. I've thought to myself a few times since you've been gone: "Fuck, I have to ring Pop, it's been ages! I want to tell him about what's been going on!". But, on the other hand, I don't know that dwelling on it too much is healthy. We'll see I guess.

So, that's about it really.

Hooray
(You used to say that instead of "hooroo", remember? It used to crack me up but I don't think you ever got the joke)

love Dan xxoo