You were great, Stella

Day 17

I am still giving my body time to heal itself of this ear infection and it's doing a damn fine job. Well done, white blood cells. Today I got by with just vitamin C and no painkillers - Yay. Still on the sofa in a smelly old dressing gown though, so a little way to go yet.

I was watching a film where Blythe Danner is discussing time travel with her soon to be step-grandson. "Would you go forward or back?" was the pertinent question, and it really got me thinking (because what else have I got to do until I can balance upright properly). They both chose forward as they would "want to know what happens", but I can't think of anything worse than taking all the surprises out of ones future. What would there be to wish, dream or hope for, if it was already decided and set in stone?

If one were able to go back, however, to those places of regret - of wanting to do things differently - could I really choose that either? Would I still have married my lovely Steve if I had known how much baggage we both brought with us, and how long it would take to work it out? If nineteen years of illness was the price I had to pay for my sublime son Sam, would I have thought twice about it? Would I have gone to art school earlier, learnt to drive younger, put off children until I was older, travelled more, earnt more money, had more security - where does it stop?

It is natural to regret sometimes, to wish "if only", believing it would have made ones life easier and reduced some of the heartache. But if I changed it, who would I be? What valuable lessons that are engraved on the bruises of my heart would I really wish to be without? What wisdom, hard fought for and hard won, would I trade?

Not much, I think.

I suspect my future - My New Life - will be created because of all that I am, because everything I have done up to this point has led me here, to this moment, and I was not ready before. I have regrets, of course, but what life lived, taking risks and meeting things head on doesn't?

I would change just one thing. There was a girl in my History class at school called Stella. I sat next to her two or three times a week and we got on OK. She was not popular or cool, but rather unfashionable and weedy, and her breath smelt like the very devil. I wish I had known that that was a symptom of the disease that killed her before she was nineteen. I wish I had appreciated her loyalty and kindness and grace more than my shallow teenage self did. When I left school and ran away to London with my boyfriend, I wish I had thanked her properly for the silver necklace she left for me at my parents house - expecting nothing in return, and probably knowing it was to be her last Christmas.

So, as I do not have a time-machine, Stella, I tell you this, wherever you are. I am a better friend to others when I have cause to remember you, and my precious silver necklace is the one single thing I own, that did not come from my famitly, that I would never part with. Your short life helped make me who I am. Thank you, babe, sweet dreams, God bless.