Letters to Laurie.

Our Uncle Laurie. 

"A happy family is but an earlier heaven." 

- John Bowring  

A singer, a cook, a carer, a father like figure and an inspiration, what more could a girl ask for in an Uncle?

Every second Thursday consisted of words of wisdom and encouragement exchanged over a steaming hot short black and whatever the small cafe in Hurstville had on offer for lunch. He would smile intently across the table listening to my dreams and goals, not once trying to steer me in any other direction but my own.

He would sit patiently in his car listening to Elvis, waiting for my singing lesson to finish, then fill my mind with knowledge and facts of The King the whole way back to the station. He would relate everything I had just done in my lesson to a particular Elvis tune, playing it three or four times to ensure I knew the exact word in the song in which he was trying to describe. Although I understood the first time he played it, I could not help but smile and listen intently as he continued to elaborate with such knowledge and passion.  

These short two hours every fortnight alone would make the six hour trip to Oatley and back for a one hour singing lesson worth every second. To see the smile and pride that would ooze out of his last kiss before I jumped on the train would leave me with such satisfaction. My visit would always end with a huge kiss, a cuddle and the words 'I love you' exchanged before i would dash out of the car holding the $20 he would undoubtably deny my refusal to take every fortnight. I now wish I had spent it more wisely.

On the recent passing of our Uncle Laurie, I was rocked to my core. How could God take away something so gracious and beautiful? Having just moved to Sydney, away from my partner and my family, i didn't have much to cling to, but I will admit the pillow and the rain definatly came in handy. While speaking to Dan I would constantly ask him how I was going to get through this. His reply was simple, direct and proved to be the best advice I had been given. 'Write it down, keep a diary of every emotion, every thought and just let it out'.

This advice is the basis of 'Letters to Laurie'.

Letters to Laurie is not a diary, but a collage of things that create who I am and who I hope to be. People, places, inspirations, fashions and dreams. If not all but one of these relate to you in some way than I am so grateful to be able to share that expression of thought.

The last night I spent in my Uncle Laurie's apartment was the night before his funeral. I settled my self on his serene leather lounge, and with my family occupying themselves, wrote his eulogy. While this proved that paper and tears do not mix, I managed to write three solid pages, despite the salt water that would continuously distort any vision I had left through my baggy eyes.

As Mum and I were looking through photos, books and endless amounts of taped boxing matches and football games, I stumbled across a little green book. A quote book. As I flicked through the book I was obviously forced to the back page only to find a hand written quote by Uncle Laurie that I still can not find anywhere in the book. It read:

"Its only when we loose something of value, do we realise the extent of the loss"

With the amount of spirituality already in the room I had no other choice than to laugh and cry at the same time, one of the most awkward yet common things that our emotions enable us to experience.

This quote book will now provide each post with a little character and insight from someone else that is  thinking along the same lines as me. I don't know whether I chose to do this to reassure myself that I am not crazy or whether it was to have a little piece of Laurie in each post for you to endure, but I think  I will roll with both of those ideas! 

Come along on my little journey and I promise I will share the perfect little things that make my life so complete.

Yours in Blue Suede Shoes,

BL. x