After another disappointment, following the welfare report.
I got up and dusted myself off. For some reason I felt at ease with my solicitor she was so compassionate.
One-day I went to my appointment as usual at her office. We had our usual discussion about the progress of the case, Jill informed me that a date had been set for the new preliminary hearing. She informed me that the original welfare officer would be present but her report would not be used. The reason she would attend the courts to question her on her decision to ignore all other request, and focus on the resident guardian.
I was keen for this to occur; although this was not the final hearing, we were getting closer. Jill at one point looked at me and said. “In all my time as a solicitor, I have not met or heard of anyone who had suffered like you”.
“There are worse problems out there, at least, I am not disabled” I replied.
I recall Jill put her pen down and folded her hand across her chest, she then leaned back on the chair and just stared. Then she said to me, “You understand me, but the question for me is. ” how do you still manage to smile” “you don’t even complain”. Continuing…
“I have no words”..
“Have you thought of writing a book? I looked at her quite puzzled. “You really have a story”, “I understand that we all have our problems, but, yours is different” you have been mentally destroyed. Yet, there is a warmth about you.
Jill insisted “you need to write a book”. I really chuckled when she said that, as I hadn’t even had a proper education. I was just starting out. I remember this day and conversation like yesterday.
Jill then got up to leave the room, “I will be back in a minute” she said.
When she came back she had a large blue solicitors note pad, and a brand new pen,
“Here you go she said, “you can start today” she handed them both to me.
I laughed, then we both laughed. “I’m serious”, she said.
I got up to walk out the room, as Jill reminded me. ” I am on your side she said” …
Thank you, I smiled and walked out the door…..
As I walked down the street, I thought, “me write a book”, she is funny.
Jill was my closet friend, meaning she was still a professional, so couldn’t bend the rules completely.
But the idea of writing, hmm! that would be nice. The seed was planted. But I would just write for me, after all I was never going to tell anyone my secrets.
When I arrived home that day and put the key in the door, I noticed the familiar airmail letter on the floor. It was letter from my father….
He had responded….