A life of love

In all the chaos, flurry and rage of the petty squabbles we find ourselves in, we forget about the people who love us. And loved us. And will love us.

A family friend died this morning. I knew it was coming, and I honestly can’t even remember the last time I saw Les but the loss was felt, deeply.

Les was probably the most wholesome person I’ve ever met. A friend to everybody. All I can remember is his smiling face. I was a shy child but I always ran across the playground to hug him. I just loved him. A truly pure love. He taught everybody in my primary school bike safety and was a very patient mentor. He had time for everybody and the kids loved him.

I told them we were related. He was my godmother’s dad. Close enough.

I speak of all the things I want to do with my life, the places I want to take my writing, the career I hope to have but deep down, like everybody else, I want a life of love. Les had that.

Les was adored. He was humble, he was kind, he was everything you think of when you think of a good person. His family is tight-knit and they are all his biggest fans. Sometimes you make waves not with controversy or hard work but by being the best version of yourself, wherever possible. Les taught me that.

It’s comforting to know Les died at an old age with no regrets. That he really did have a life of love. He died knowing he was loved and those around him never questioned it.

I’m learning over time that a happy life is more important than an exciting one. I’m not sure the story of Les’s life would be a bestseller but to those that knew him, the lasting memories will be filled with love, and laughter, and kindness. We take these things for granted but more often than not, they matter the most.

I am so glad I knew Les. I’m so glad I have the memories of him. He was one of the really special people that never quite leaves your skin and I’m lucky to have known him in such formative years. No matter how long it’s been, how far away I am or how much I change, Les and his family are part of my core.

Les didn’t want flowers, or money being spent by anybody. He didn’t want a fuss. Humble and dignified til the end. What he’s left me with, and what I hope I’ve conveyed to you, is an acknowledgement and understanding of what it is to have a life of love.

The little things don’t matter. Remember the people that created your core. And try to always be the best version of yourself, or at least the kindest version of yourself, wherever possible.

 

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