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Living with Luke 56

February 16, 2015

Moments…we all live for those wonderful pieces of time that make us feel…incredible, unbeatable, inspired.


For me, most of the moments in my life come from songs, films and books. The crunching chord in the chorus of ‘The Power of Love’ by Frankie Goes to Hollywood. The bridge in ‘All the things she said’ by Simple Minds. Any moment Rocky Balboa overcomes insurmountable odds (“Get up you sonofabitch…cos Mickey loves ya…’). The chord change in ‘Why does my heart feel so bad?’ by Moby. Scrooge’s redemption in ‘A Christmas Carol’. Rutger Hauer’s death speech in ‘Blade Runner’. The heavenly choirs in both ‘The Last Dalek’ by Murray Gold and ‘All For You’ by Paul Leonard-Morgan. The lyric ‘I know you have a little life in you yet, I know you have a lot of strength left…’.

I could go on. It would be easy to list many such moments.

But sometimes, moments are all I ever seem to get from Tiddles. Such is the nature of our fragile relationship these days, such moments of pleasure come all too fleetingly and are sadly gone just as quickly.

We danced the other night.

I was in the kitchen and he came in and without even being asked, stood on my feet and we danced around in a circle in our tiny kitchen. It only felt like a minute but in actuality it was probably less. It wasn’t long I know that much.

Then he suddenly put his arms around me and squeezed me tightly. My arms were pinned so I couldn’t hug him back, but it didn’t matter because I had misinterpreted the hug. I could feel him walking me backwards, out of the kitchen. We got to the living room door and he turned me to go through it. Then he realised he wasn’t where he wanted to be so turned me round and walked me back towards the office, where he pushed me in and shut the door.

‘Relax Riddler, you’re in no hurry now…’ He said, mimicking Batman – The Animated Series from the 70’s. Knowing the next line, having heard the damn thing so often, I replied.

‘You…you…caped creeps!’

And then he laughed the fake laugh beloved of that particular genre of 70’s cartoon makers.

Then he left me. He had had his fun, his momentary connection with me now severed, he walked away ready to move on to the next thing.

This is a common theme here. I get moments. Sometimes the moments last a bit longer, most of the time they are no more than a minute. And sometimes it’s difficult to accept. It actually breaks my heart to write this down sometimes. Cathartic it is not. But I still write them down. I hope people get something out of them, even some small moment of clarity, comfort, even a feeling of smug superiority, I don’t care. I write them for whatever heartbreaking reason that I do. He’s my beautiful Quiet Prince and his distance from me is for me to deal with, whether anybody reads about my sadnesses and successes or not.


The other night, my son and I, we danced.


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