Yesterday was Remembrance Day.
Last night I dreamed of you Kat. I woke up with you right at the front of my awareness, close to me as though we were embracing. I could touch your long blonde curls and marvel at the details of your beautiful face. You who had a smile for everyone. But in my dream, Kat, you were not smiling.
In the dream, I was shopping for shoes. I had seen some leopard print boots and I wanted to get them. I went into the shop and there you were, standing in a long white dress, surrounded by shoppers, weeping.
Remember me, you cried. Please remember me. Your hair hung down and the tears ran down your gown.
And we sat down on the pouffe in the shoe shop and we held each other and wept.
When you died in January I vowed to honour you, Kat. I said I would make an anthology of your lyrics. But I haven’t done it. Inertia, distraction and fear have stopped me from taking on the task in earnest. And truthfully, I don’t know if it is the right thing to do: I can’t bring myself to even try separate your words from your joyous singing voice.
So I will plant a tree for you, on January 6th, Epiphany: the anniversary of the last time I saw you alive.
I will remember you Kat, and I will always miss you.