Bye for now...x
I’ve been writing these pieces each week for a little over a year now.
I wrote the first one as a way to reconnect with my dad after he died and just as the pandemic had rocket launched into its upending, norm-bending, potentially world-ending take-off. No one knew where we were headed then, in fact it all felt rather headless, and if there was one thing my dad was good at it was keeping his while all around were losing theirs. So, seeking guidance, I tried to imagine his measured take and wondered if some of you would appreciate it too. After all, if there was another thing he was really good at it was indulging in Armageddon fantasies so this was right up his street. It felt like bitter-sweet irony that he wasn’t around to enjoy it.
I really missed him. I missed his voice. I missed his always interesting if not always accurate “but have you considered this…?” alternative to whatever the prevailing social, cultural, commercial, political or philosophical narrative might be. And what a narrative was taking shape. It all felt right to write.
And now, after a year or so, it doesn’t anymore. So, I’ve decided I’m going to stop, for the time being at least and maybe more.
Because another reason I started to write, I now realise, was to keep him alive in my words. I didn’t want his own words to fade from memory. I kept writing to keep hold of him. But I’ve been holding him for a year now and he’s a heavy old bastard so it’s time I put him down. I’d like to release my hold on him with love and respect. 4 ounces and all that.
Joe, Michael and I have put in place a means for keeping Stephen’s teachings alive. We’re all still involved, but in the background.
In Oli and Lyana we have a brilliant team who first and foremost love our dad’s work and want to get it out there to share it with as many people as possible.
I’m grateful to Yvonne for doing this with me during this so very strange year and for being gracious in handing back the reins.
Most of all thank you to everyone for reading each week and for being with me while I carried Stephen in my words.
The final one of which, for now, was fittingly one of his: