I stood this morning with my hands on the bench wondering about you, about a gift for you - and it struck me with a force that bought tears - I don’t know you half as well I might like to. Do not know your deep down desires - what makes you tick and what you love simply and always - the sort of simple gift that would light you up. So I write to you instead - to the end that in doing so I might somehow come across more of you, reach back into the past in order to love you more in the present.

My dear brother, you are this wonderful being of cunning and delight. The joy I see in your mischief and in the pure joy of doing something like standing sanding your outdoor table. I take my hat off to your courage - the way you do battle, destroy the park, can stay with the dark, even let it overwhelm you at times, but come back into the light, richer and wiser for the traverse. You inspire me in your constancy. I picture you at the helm of dad’s boat, riding the swell, can in hand, heaving jolly bellows to the sea spray of come what may, I’m enjoying myself.

Father, husband, creative genius and dear brother who always is up for a coffee, a lunch at a moments notice - I am learning to love you more.