Remembering Iain…

… would imply that at any point we might have forgotten about him.

Tonight we honour him for the sacrifice he made, putting his life on the line (and laying it down) to chase a deadly threat off his wife and children.


We focus on remembering his life, not his death – but every night it haunts me, is there anything I could have done differently and he’d still be alive today?

The short answer to that is:  No.

It could have gone differently.  But not in the positive sense.   He did save our lives.  None of us could have acted differently than we did.

Two years tonight.  I have learnt a lot about all sorts of people in the interim.

And I feel that he has never left our side, since.  When I want to cry, I hear him say, “shhh…  I’m here!”  When I talk about him, he says (like he used to in life too, when his mom brought out stories of him while he was listening) “don’t talk about me as though I’m not in the room!” or “I can hear you!”  Tongue-in-cheek, with humour like he always did.  This brings it very near to me that he is involved in our lives.

If people differ from this view, namaste. This is just the way I am experiencing things.  I doubt anyone will want to lock me up or exorcise me for it.

I need to sleep.  Tomorrow will bring its own worries.  Goodnight, Peeps.


7 thoughts on “Remembering Iain…

    • We do. Thank you for that, I’ll look up their studies. It’s always great to have backup. My friend’s SCIO machine that measures electrostatic fields picked him up standing behind me during a SCIO session.

      Interesting how it influences one’s outlook on life.

  1. It doesn’t feel like two years, tbh. It still feels like minutes back. I’ve been living in a sort-of half-world ever since, and the kids too. I’m seeing them make progress, and many days are alright, but we’re never very far from it all coming crashing back.

    I’m still giving myself more time off from writing, because the Shooting Star series was at a critical place, getting back in there will take another hurricane of emotion, and I can’t go to pieces now. Too much to take care of.

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