Going it alone.

I woke up on Friday morning to a phone call from a friend.  It was bad news.  
Andrea Marongiu suddenly passed away.  A friend, a neighbour, a fantastic musician.  Instant shock and grief.  
Andrea's beautiful wife Louise has set up a fund in his name.  A positive move from one of the strongest people I have ever met, and I have no doubt it will be the hugest success, bringing music and joy to many people’s lives.

"We, Andrea's family and friends, are raising money in memory of a gifted musician, beloved husband, son, brother and friend. His unexpected and untimely death has left us without one of the best and brightest people we knew.
We want to celebrate his life and his amazing warmth and energy with a foundation in his name to build something positive out of this tragedy and give people hope by seeing the start of an enduring legacy. 

Our aim is to provide access to music for young people - and to help them to grow and be impassioned by music in the way Andrea was. This way, through your generosity, we hope that people will have their lives enriched and improved by Andrea, in the same way he made our world a happier place."

You can donate HERE

It's a whole load of perspective raining down in an instant, a life changing instant for those close to Andrea, and the wretched thing is that it is as much part of life as you are reading this.  As much part of life as waking up in the morning and taking that first conscious breath, yawn and stretch.  Not waking up one day is as much part of life as being alive is.  It’s so utterly heartbreakingly true.

I want to share a poem that I have found myself going back to throughout the past seven years.  You are reading this, I am not with you.  We are apart.  I think death is a little like that.  We are not together but everything I AM still is, and everything you ARE always will be.  We are just in the next room from each other.  We are always going it alone, we just pick up other people along the way and invite them to go it alone along side us.

Death is nothing at all.
I have only slipped away to the next room.
I am I and you are you.
Whatever we were to each other, 
That, we still are.

Call me by my old familiar name.
Speak to me in the easy way
which you always used.
Put no difference into your tone.
Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow.

Laugh as we always laughed
at the little jokes we enjoyed together.
Play, smile, think of me. Pray for me.
Let my name be ever the household word
that it always was.
Let it be spoken without effect.
Without the trace of a shadow on it.

Life means all that it ever meant.
It is the same that it ever was.
There is absolute unbroken continuity.
Why should I be out of mind
because I am out of sight? 

I am but waiting for you.
For an interval.
Somewhere. Very near.
Just around the corner.

All is well.

Nothing is past; nothing is lost. One brief moment and all will be as it was before only better, infinitely happier and forever we will all be one together with Christ. 

Henry Scott Holland

So Andrea, I hope the room you find yourself in is filled with the same quality of beauty you have brought to all of us.  

Rosie xxx


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