Joining the dots

Over the past few weeks I've found myself with a pair of knitting needles in hand, making beautiful things and going into the deep meditative state the seems to come to me when I knit. I was contemplating where my passion for helping others take charge of their thoughts, learning to love themselves for who they are and helping them to make their mark on the world had come from.

My thoughts took me back to high school, Grade 12 to be specific. Memories of playing my trumpet with the band outside a church at the memorial service of a young man who lost his life too soon. An empty chair placed in our row where he used to sit, his trumpet there, but he was not. I remember anger surfacing inside me and the struggle to hold back my tears as we played Michael Jackson's  "Heal the World", a song he completely detested.It all seemed so surreal.

 A beautiful life, a beautiful soul, he had much to give the world, yet he battled with the demons of anorexia. Unfortunately his heart stopped while he was in Brisbane, waiting to seek medical treatment for his condition.

This wasn't just a fellow band member. This young man held a place close to my heart a couple of years earlier. He was 2 years younger than I and my friends thought I was crazy for having feelings for someone younger. After all, he was in grade 8 and I was in grade 10. Lucky for me, succumbing to peer pressure never rated highly on my radar, as shy as I may have been, I didn't need the approval of others even then.

I recall a young guy who was funny, warm and cheeky, with gorgeous chocolate brown eyes,  who never ate at lunch breaks and was constantly obsessed with what he weighed. I knew it was unhealthy, I didn't know how to help.  I was just there with him, those few months of our short-lived high school relationship. He was the first guy I really slow danced with at a school social and I still remember the smell of boy sweat as we danced close together. Young, innocent, pure and  simple teenage romance.

There was a time that he was admitted to hospital in Brisbane for treatment and had been away for a significant period. It was around the same time the band had travelled down there to compete in an annual festival. He ran away from hospital for the day and came to watch us play in the Queen Street Mall. Band and music were important to him. I thought he was such a rebel, but it was heartwarming to see happiness in his eyes that day.

Upon us returning home, I approached one of my friends for his address at the hospital, as their families were close. I wrote him a letter. I had purchased a purple gel pen especially to pen my words on the Anne Geddes paper I had secretly taken from my mother's desk drawer. I wanted to reach out to him. I wanted to feel connected to him. I wanted him to know that he mattered, no matter what the status of our relationship. I wanted him to know people cared for him and he had a place in this world.

My rebellious mission was getting the letter to the post box without my mum knowing what I was up to. Quite a feat considering we lived out of town! Somehow I managed to make up an excuse one day to go downtown after school and post it. I was so nervous as I dropped it into the big red box.

When I heard the news of his passing those couple of years later, my heart sank. I was deeply saddened that he'd lost his fight for life. I secretly vowed and declared that the loss of his life would not be in vain. Since then I've had a strong desire to create a legacy in his honour to help others, to help make resources more readily available for those who need them in regional areas. I just didn't know how I would do it.

I realise now since walking my own path of life and completing my coaching studies, taking care of our mental health is such an important thing. Had he been afforded the opportunity of having these resources available to him, it may have given him the opportunity to work through the demons of his mind that were controlling his relationship to food.

So Nick, this post is dedicated to you. You are often in my thoughts and a small piece of my heart will always hold special memories of you. These memories bring a smile to my face. There have been many times where I've wondered if you are my guardian angel, somehow watching over me, protecting me, softening life's blows. As I continue on my journey of life, helping and guiding others whose paths cross mine, I'm  aware of a young life that was ended too soon. I use this to propel me through life on the down days, the tough times, the difficult times. Your memory lives on xxxxx