Dedicated to my wonderful partner, Jamie.

You are Stan’s biggest fan and you have been demanding for so long for an extra piece of Stanley to be written, so here it is babe, this one is for you.

Love you always,

Ophelia Gold

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I wanted to write this down while I still have all my faculties and I am bequeathing this to my beloved friend and comforter – Helena. May you take life lessons from this letter.

I know over the years we have spoken quite a lot about all sorts of things but I wanted to tell you about the things that matter. I wanted you to know that I wasn’t always miserable and there was a time that I was the happiest man you could ever have hoped to meet. If anything comes from this I just hope you find hope and meaningful lessons within these pages that will help to shape your future and the way you deal with difficult situations. Unfortunately you met me once the best moments of my life were over and you saw me at my worst and loved me regardless.

Please take pleasure in my best memories and may they live on through you.

To Helena, you were my bright light in my otherwise dark and dreary world.

 

 

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I’m no writer and have no wish to bore you with too much detail about my upbringing or my parents; in fact I’ll keep it to the point. There are so many memories that I didn’t share with you and maybe after all these years that I’ve talk about Ava I feel as though you have only ever heard me wallow in my self-pity; about what I had and what I lost. I’m writing this so you can get the bigger picture and that I wasn’t always the miserable man who drank too much to numb the pain of the past. I wish you had known me in my younger years. I wish you had seen me at my best. And most importantly, I wish you had had the pleasure of knowing my Ava. I know she would have loved you as I do.

My grief has restricted all aspects of myself as you know, and it only just occurred to me that there were so many people and memories and experiences I have had that I haven’t bothered to share. Half of the time I must have forgotten them myself, it’s been so long and so much has happened but should you ever read this that means I’m no longer here with you but I wanted you to have something to remember me by. Once I really started to think about it I realized that Ava’s death caused me to tell stories about her and I in the most flattering way. Over the years I think the fairy dusted versions I have told you have started to take effect on me also.

Take my wedding day for example. I know I told you about the ceremony, the magic, the heavenly white silk gown, the happy faces in the pews and me the happiest man in the world waiting for it all to happen. But I wanted to write down the truth for you. I want to share the real memory with you that went unmentioned in our time together.

So no tears Helena! I mean it, I want you to laugh and remember me as I was in the beginning.

I will jump in with my wedding day.

The (not so) perfect wedding

 

There was a version of this I have told you countless times and as an old romantic at heart you’ve always swooned at the romantic details but here is the less glamorous and more honest version of the day I married my childhood sweetheart.

Oh it was glorious! The church was packed to the brim with almost everyone we knew. Ava and I had all the same friends and grow up in a very small quaint town – well more like a picturesque village really but we had been brought up in the same sweet and pretty surroundings of Ambleside as you know. That is where we went to school together, where we first held hands together, and the park down the road from my parent’s house was the place where I had my first ever kiss. And what a kiss it was, sent straight from the heavens. Just thinking about it now in my old age still sends tingles down my spine so needless to say it had been the most exciting moment of my life – until this. My wedding day! Of course it is rather bitter sweet to some that I married the very girl I had my first kiss with but to me it made perfect sense. Why wouldn’t I want to keep this angel that I have been completely obsessed with since school? I wanted Ava to be my first everything.

My first kiss, my first date, my first love, my first marriage, my first argument, my first bride, my first friend and my first sexual experience. Now I do look at myself like your father figure so I will keep this description as unsexual as possible and believe me it was! The whole reason I am even prepared to tell you about it is because I know you will laugh, so here goes.

So the wedding is happening in full swing, Ava looks like a vision all in white and I have a lump in my throats trying to get through my vows. Ava chokes up while she is reading hers to me and it’s the most vulnerable I had ever felt at that point, but then again I was young and inexperienced. But the latter is where is gets quite funny and quite embarrassing. We had a party after the ceremony with all our family and friends there. Champagne was flowing like water and Ava and I couldn’t get enough. Everyone was in high spirits and my best friend at the time was called Charlie Monsworn. Charlie was always energetic and a complete prankster but he was always the life and soul of the party. He was running around the dance floor and grabbing bottles of beer and shoving them down my neck by the gallon. I’d say that’s the most drunk I’ve ever been but – well, at that point it was true. I was dizzy and felt sick and asked Charlie to quit his fun and games while he was ahead but Charlie was having none of it. He swore everyone had to be in this state on a wedding day, but my fun instantly stopped as soon as I saw Ava throwing her guts up in the corner of the room. Charlie had been forcing as much champagne as he could fit down Ava’s throat and she was starting to feel the consequences from it. Once I saw what state she was in I was livid. I couldn’t control my anger and ran to find him. He was rolling around with some other friends outside on the grass attempting to do roly-poly’s and hand stands and I lunged for him. I was roaring drunk and felt every bit as terrible as Ava did but I had to keep it together to put Charlie in his place. He had gone too far and Ava was now crying over the wreck of her wedding dress. Her bridal party were trying to comfort her while she was crying and some bridesmaids in their fluster where trying their best to rub the sick of the gown with a damp cloth. Ava was devastated and completely beside herself, I knew she wanted to keep her wedding dress forever – but he had ruined it with his version of ‘fun’.

We all knew Charlie was a wild card back then and in our youth we all loved him for it but that night I wanted Charlie’s head on a stick.

I grabbed him by the throat and squeezed with all my might, people were screaming and it felt as though ten pairs of hands were grabbing me in all places. Hands on my face, hands on my hands, hands grabbing at my shoulders, hands pulling at my shirt. The tussle was getting more and more violent and the more people that tried to tear me off the more my rage grew to new heights. Someone had to punch me in the back off my head for me to finally let go and as I spun around to see who would dare do that on my wedding day I was faced with my grandmother – Doreen.

Oh god did we laugh! My grandmother was the sweetest most angelic and petite looking woman imaginable but my word are looks deceiving. If you knew my grandmother well she was the very last person anyone would wish to upset. Her wrath and anger could blow anyone out of the water and she didn’t care about size or gender, if you were out of line with anything you would be dealt a blow by my tiny, lovely and almighty grandmother.

‘What are you boys doing out here! Get your backsides in there right now before I take down the lot of you!’ She bellowed. We were crying with hysterics and even Charlie and I were grabbing each other round the shoulder and having an old brotherly type hug while laughing so hard our shoulders were shaking. My grandmother could pack a punch and my ears were ringing for the rest of the night.

 

We returned back to the party and I asked Charlie to at least apologize to Ava about getting her so drunk she ruined her dress. He said he would, ran over to her and kissed her full on the mouth! I would have grabbed for his throat again but grandmother Doreen was watching me with eyes of a hawk and unfortunately Ava and I were to familiar with Charlie’s bad behavior and antics. I often used to joke that Charlie had kissed Ava more than I had during our marriage. He was always fun and games and most people found him harmless when he wanted to be. I don’t think I ever spoke about Charlie to you, perhaps ever. I know I told you in detail about the wedding day and how amazingly gorgeous everything was but I suppose I left a lot of the truth out of my memories. I think when it comes to talking with someone about the love of your life you always just highlight how amazing they looked and how lovely the ceremony was and what that persons vows were and what our song was to our first dance as man and wife. I think people do it very consciously. I think I self edited my wedding to you so much that even I had almost forgotten all the rotten and sordid details of what actually went on that day. That’s why I want to tell you now. I don’t want you to believe in fairytales necessarily. I want you to believe in reality, and as glossy and sugar coated something may seem there is always more to the story which leads me to my wedding night.

So I will self edit here as much as I can to avoid being crude, don’t forget I’m still your father figure but let’s just say things didn’t plan out as well as you may have assumed. I think during one of our conversations I lied to you and said something along the lines of ‘the wedding night was magical, there’s nothing like making love to your young bride.’ Yes I’m afraid that was a lie, what actually happened was less romantic –far less romantic. We stayed in our home town for the night in an exquisite 18th century manor turned hotel and we had the bridal suite. Our driver for the wedding took us there after the party and I regret to say we both threw up in the rented car on the way to the hotel and the driver was anything other than pleased. Ava had been crying about her dress all night long and nothing I said could change how she felt. She looked ill the poor thing, her hair had become damp from sweat and her skin was pale and shiny. I knew I had to get to bed straight away and had a feeling that tonight was definitively not going to be ‘the night.’

Ava and I had only ever been with each other in a romantic way but knew we wanted to save the moment for a special occasion. Originally we were going to do it once we were engaged and just tell everybody that we were going to wait until we were married but keep it our little secret that we had made love to each other long before that day came. But of course once the engagement ring was on Ava’s finger she decided that we might as well wait for real and then it would mean so much more for us if we were actually married. I have to admit I was a little - what do the younger generation say these days- ‘gutted?’

Yes I was gutted, completely devastated actually but of course I would never have admitted that to Ava and upset her. I wanted it to mean something too, but for me it would have any day of the week. So naturally once the wedding night finally arrived I began to get excited, then nervous then terrified because what if I was no good at it?! And then lastly once Charlie pulled his stunt of giving us both alcohol poisoning you can imagine my hatred for Charlie in that moment. All that build-up for absolutely nothing.

I recall stumbling out of the wedding car on our way to the hotel but Ava swears blind that I apparently ‘fell’ out of the car – that much I do not remember. I don’t doubt her for a moment though because I don’t remember how I got to the hotel room, I only remember throwing up some more and feeling as though I could pass out at any moment. Our romantic moment of carrying the bride across the threshold to the bed did not take place as Ava stormed passed me in a bid to beat me to the toilet – and she got there first. I was holding Ava’s hair back while her head was in the toilet and she was crying saying ‘Everything has been ruined! My wedding night! My dress!’

I couldn’t disagree with her she was right; although it had been a lovely day it had been a terrible night. But the thing is, back then I thought it was terrible. Now I look back and laugh. What a scene! A complete nightmare! But I do find the funny side to it now after all these years, I guess it just makes for a very memorable moment.

Naturally no love making was attempted that night or the day after as we both still felt terrible and didn’t fully recover until sometime into our honeymoon. That’s where the magic finally happened and it turned out to be the right place and the right time for us and a special moment we never forgot.

 

The reason I tell you now about the how the wedding actually went is because I don’t want you to believe in the perfect moment, no matter how grand it looks on the outside. What started out as a pleasure to speak about Ava so often I now realise may have influenced your outlook on love. I don’t want you to think if it’s not like a story book ending then it doesn’t count, that makes this person to be the wrong person. In truth our wedding night was a disaster and so unromantic but it didn’t sound pleasing to tell the honest version so I told you the story book version but that’s unfair. Life isn’t always pretty and moments of perfection can be ruined but that doesn’t make the moment any less special – in fact reliving my wedding now at my age has made me chuckle at remembering it all and I can now appreciate that it was still such a special memory no matter how much the day was spoilt in the end it’s still something I hold dear to my heart.

So I know you love your Danielle Steel novels but I’m here now to burst your romantic bubble. Love for love, don’t seek perfection –and for the special moments that feel ruined, accept it and love it all the same.

 

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You are perfect

 

On the baby front as you know we were unsuccessful and it wasn’t for lack of trying. Ava had her heart set on a big family and I needed no convincing to want the same things. We were young, hopeful, ambitious and the world was our oyster – but Mother Nature often has her own plans.

We had an assessment at the clinic to see if we were both able to have children after years of trying only to find out that Ava’s body wasn’t up for the challenge. I can’t tell you how distraught that made her - and in consequence that made me miserable. I’ll admit I wasn’t happy about the news but I could live with it. As long as I had Ava that’s all that mattered but that’s not how Ava felt. She couldn’t live with herself, feeling as though she had let me down in some way. I often believed and still believe to this day that she had no clue how much I adored her. In my eyes she could never do wrong and could never disappoint me.

I tried all I could to take the pain away of what she was going through and we discussed surrogacy and adoption but all these points just highlighted Ava’s inability to have one of her own so there sadly was no alternative. I have told you this story before so I won’t dwell on the parts you know so well but the reason I mention it is because a lot of women feel as though if they don’t have children then they are let down and a disappointment to their kind and to their partners and parents but this really isn’t the case.

I can’t say it is fair for some to get the family they long for and for others to only ever be left wanting and craving what they can’t have but never feel as though you are obliged to have children just because you are a woman because that’s just not true. You, yourself alone, are enough. As you stand now – married – unmarried – children – no children, you are complete as you are now and always have been, anything more in life is a bonus.

It took Ava several years to finally make her peace with us as we were and finally let go of the judgment she held on to herself and ‘resigned to her fate’ as she called it. I would always laugh at her and tell her that she could have provided me with a dozen children but it would never have made me love her anymore than I did.

Once Ava came around she grew content with new passions and hobbies such as painting. I don’t think I ever mentioned her love of art and if I did I believe it was only a passing comment but she was truly amazing at it. She would work with oil paints, pastels, charcoal and even brightly coloured buttons! There was nothing Ava couldn’t find that would hold some use to her in her art projects later on. It began as a means to pass the time (when she was still very much in her grieving period after the visit to the clinic) but as the year’s fell away her artistic ability grew more and more with each passing day. I encouraged her to maybe and try and sell some of her pieces but as I was her biggest fan in life with everything she did, Ava didn’t truly believe that her work was excellent and had me down as bias. As much as I was and will always be bias that didn’t prevent that fact that her works of art were incredible pieces. She saw things in such abstract and unusual ways that I would watch her work in silence for sometimes hours on end without her ever knowing. On the odd occasion she would catch me leering in the door behind her she would shout ‘Get out Stanley! You’re making me lose my concentration. I’ll never get anything done with you glaring at me all the time!’ She would push me from the room as I was chuckling and I always found it amusing how private she felt she had to be when working.

At the time I thought it was so she could focus without being disturbed and I did often try and respect her work area whenever possible but over the years I realise it had nothing to do with that. Her work time wasn’t about shutting me out, it wasn’t even that I was an annoying presence in the room (which I often was) but I gained insight into each piece once they were completed and knew that her pieces were very personal to her. Each painting, mosaic, wall hanging etc they each told their own story. It was so much more that something pretty to look at it, it meant something.

Looking back to those moments now I do scold myself for being a nuisance to her but it was always such a joy to watch her work. Her face of steely determination and dedication was a sight to behold but I now know that her work was something from her imagination, something from a dream or a fantasy. Something of pure longing and desire –and I wasn’t the only one that thought so.

Her work had become something of small local fame in the area and we attended many car boot sales, craft fairs, local art showings and the list went on and on, but it worked, her art was a hit. She was painting and crafty up until her last days actually, it was always her place of escapism; it seemed to relieve her of her pain if only for an instant. I suppose you may know where this is going. The pictures and small paintings in my room at Sullen Heights are not just ‘wall fillers’ I bought at a charity shop. I’m sorry to have never told you this story before but when I first came to Sullen Heights my defences were up and I trusted nobody. It feels so long ago to remember that time of our first meeting where I stared at you will a cold gaze as you showed me around the hostel. You asked if I had any belongings and would I like anything from the donation room if not, the small bag of belongings contained a few pieces Ava made that I had no intention to part with. The art wasn’t valuable in a money sense but still meant the world to me. You asked me when you saw them where I got them from, I suppose you could say you showed too much interest for my liking so I shrugged it off as though they weren’t important. I had heard all about hostels at that time you see, how anything precious or dear to you will probably be stolen from you in the middle of the night. I had heard rumours of people having to sleep with their shoes on because people take anything for their advantage – especially when you’re at your most vulnerable.

I’m sorry for that now.

All these years and I still didn’t come clean about those pieces in my room. But I’m telling you now and I want – no correction – I need you to have them. I don’t care much for any materialistic item I’ve ever owned and think nothing of valuables I once had in my life but this - this is something I do care about. Keep sakes.

Keep sakes are something entirely different. I hope by the time you have read this that they haven’t been thrown away upon clearing out my room for the next tenant of this room but if they haven’t I want you to keep them and enjoy them. They are one of the only things I have kept of Ava’s since she passed and would hate to see them go to anyone else.

Knowing you as I do, I know it will be you who has taken the work load on yourself to clear my room and the sentimental person you are I have no doubt that you would want to keep hold of something of mine. Well keep it all anything – even my dirty socks!

All jokes aside you know I have nothing of any value and I’m sad to say I don’t have money to leave behind me. I don’t even have enough to hire a solicitor to organize a will – let alone something to actually put in a will to give away. That I’m afraid is something I do regret. I wish I could provide for you in a financial way. I wish I could be more of a role model to you. But I’m afraid this is all I have to leave you with – this letter from me to you.

 

Which leads me on to my next point – money.

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Money (does)n’t buy you happiness

 

Well we all know the old saying of ‘Money doesn’t buy you happiness’ and for the most part that is true but one thing I can tell you is that money is essential to having a good life. I know and I appreciate this may be the last thing you expected me to say but I think I’ve learnt this lesson from my later years. At the beginning of my marriage to Ava I had a wonderful job, nice things, nice clothes. I used to take Ava out every single Friday and Saturday night for what the kids these days call ‘date night’. Well I suppose it was date night for us only it never had to be called that in those days it was simply the end of the working week and only good times lay ahead. A weekend away to an elaborate hotel, maybe a spot of dinner and dancing. Ava always had the smartest dresses money could buy and I would often indulge my love in fine jewellery even when there wasn’t an occasion to.

I’d come home from the office – (at the start of our marriage I used to work in an office at a manufacturing company, handling the paperwork side of things) – and Ava would be coming from her art room with smeared oil paint travelling up to her elbows and I would pull a tiny black box from my inside pocket and hand it to her ‘Happy Tuesday darling’ I’d say smiling. Ava always would scold me for how spoilt I was making her and often said how jealous our friends were of her as she always had lovely things and I delighted in spoiling her.

Just thinking back to those times brings a smile to my face and I wish more than anything that they weren’t days gone by, I wish they were still happening.

Now I’m old man who can’t even pay for a square meal let alone a roof to go over my head.

Money to a degree does buy you happiness. Even if I had been alone and single if I had money coming in I could provide for myself with a better life, a nice house, good food, pop out for the evening to pull me out of my doldrums or even have the money to head off a long vacation away from my problems. Money gives you opportunities and a better quality of life. Of course if you are in love then to me that’s all the more reason to have money in the bank. Then you are responsible for another person and you are responsible for their happiness as much as your own.

Money is essential and I’m not talking about becoming a millionaire, I’m just meaning some savings, even small ones are beneficial to you in the long run and if you find yourself lucky enough to share a life with someone then you can work together to help provide a wonderful life for you both. This information comes from old age and understanding, you know I prize love above all else and if you were the richest person in the world you wouldn’t necessarily be happy unless you had someone to share your love and life with.

Love is what truly brings you happiness but money helps life in the long run. As I said to a friend once ‘I’ve never seen an unhappy lottery winner.’ Think smart Helena, take that lesson from me.

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Grief

 

Now this I am a specialist on. I know that right now you are probably scuffling through my old things trying to figure out what to keep what to donate. Whether to laugh, whether to cry. Whether to put off having some poor soul take use of my old room because it still is so tainted with memories of me. Am I right? I know what you are like Helena and I’m telling you, it’s ok. It’s all going to be ok.

You know Sullen Heights is a sanctuary for people in need so out of no loving notion are you to prevent someone from moving into my old room. I’m not there, I don’t need it anymore. I just feel sorry for the next sorry soul that needs that room so badly, because it is their safer alternate to sleeping on the streets.

Never forget that Helena. The work you do is so important and no matter how grief stricken you are you have to remember yours and the charity’s importance. You don’t need my room vacant to remember me; I’m always with you no matter what.

It’s so bizarre to feel so guilty about dying knowing there is at least one person who has become devastated from your passing. But I do, I’m obviously still here for the time being while I’m writing this letter but I know what you are like. I know you won’t take my death well because I know how much we have come to mean to each other.

Grief is one of the hardest things to go through and definitely in my experience is very hard to recover from. You saw the effects first hand of Ava’s death and what it did to me. I hit the vodka to forget it all and it doesn’t work. I know you have too much of a strong head on your shoulders to every allow yourself to go down the dark road that I have taken but I want you to know that we all handle grief differently.

Nobody is the same when it comes to grief; some cry, some stay silent, some seek counseling, others hide away. People do extraordinary things when they feel abandoned and lonely and head for dangerous substances hoping it will get them through and it never does. I don’t believe there is a correct way to grief and as experienced as I am in these matters I still don’t have the answer when it comes to getting over grief.

All I know is that I want you to take care of yourself and do what’s best for you. Don’t be afraid to let others help you for a change and lighten the burden of your daily struggles onto others, that’s what they are there for. Sadness is a part of life and it’s normal to be upset, to have a bad day or to admit defeat when everything is becoming too much. You don’t have to champion on the way you do, with the weight of the world on your shoulders. Pushing through when you are unable to cope is admirable but not essential. Admitting defeat can be something as little as handing over some jobs to someone else to deal with or even going back to bed when you feel you’ve just had enough of everything and everyone. And this advice isn’t for dealing with death alone; this is for everyday life – take it on board Hel and start looking after yourself more for a change.

You are so strong and courageous and you are absolutely the hardest worker I know.

Just know that I love you and will always be with you no matter what. You will continue to make me proud and you will continue to have a positive effect on everyone you meet and in my eyes you can do no wrong. Just like Ava said ‘I am bias’.

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My (bizarre) will

 

So, as I’ve already mentioned you know I don’t have a will – well nothing official, but I thought it might bring a smile to your face if I make up my own will now, so here goes.

To whom it may concern I bequeath my (limited) possessions as follows:

To Maggie I leave you a stash of dirty socks on the floor of my wardrobe that I keep forgetting to bring down to be washed. I regret not being there to witness that famous grimace of yours once you get a whiff of these particular hole ridden bunch, even I have winced at the pong so do enjoy that and think of me one last time and be relieved in knowing you won’t ever have the displeasure of doing this again.

To Marjorie I leave you whatever washing Maggie cannot stomach to get through. Also I leave you my secret stash of Stephen king novels that are lodged under my bed. I know you love a good scare more than the other two, so I leave my collection with you.

To Maureen I leave you with the contents of the kitchen draw which is found in a draw in the side unit next to the bed in my room. I’m sorry to have been the culprit all along whenever your favourite whisk or spatula went missing but you have to let an old man have a little mischief in his old age.

To all the residents of Sullen Heights I leave you my room to fight over. I have been told my room was one of the biggest in the building, so anybody wanting extra space can take it up with Helena.

To Helena I leave you Ava’s art work and any other item of mine you find of sentimental value to you – and if not Maggie maybe generous and give you some of my socks! I leave you this letter (and you may show anyone this page for fun but I would rather the other pages be kept between us). I leave you my love, I leave you memories but I will never leave you.

 

Whether there is an afterlife, a heaven, a hell – well it’s all academic at my age – but regardless of where I am just know I am keeping an eye on you always.

That dear, is something you can be certain of.

 

Stan