1 December 2018, just before 5.00 a.m AEST
In a dream from which I would awake, a setting of a carnival, something crossed by the Brisbane Ekka and an American state fair, nothing familiar, only great lights in the night.
In the distance I saw Ruth was sitting with family. It was as if I was lost wandering around the fair grounds. I approach Ruth, sitting across a large table. I asked how she was. Ruth could not speak, but she just mimicked the death gesture of playing the violin.
I cannot even say sorry, Ruth. You are not here and never will be. I was distant. I now wish I had been much more present in your death. I had drifted away, became too busy, protecting myself from your death. I now wish I had been closer to you; that I had dropped everything for you in the dying.
I now feel no comfort in you, the memory of not being here. I am lost.
Ruth, you found comfort in thinking I would find someone after you were gone. I said to you honestly I do not know. Now, there is nobody.
All I want here for you, to say, “I love you”, like we once said, and said too little.