I know some of you must be curious, because he appeared here so abruptly, with little introduction, around the same time I went to Melbourne… a friend of mine who I just call Bunny. And yes, he’s a bloke.
I’ve been meaning to explain him, it’s just never come up… but now might be the time. Because, quite frankly, he’s mad at me, and thinks he’s not my bestie anymore. And I hate that.
So… my Bunny. For those of you who have been playing along at home, Bunny’s been a constant in this strange, new, un-Purple Life the last few months. He came to Melbourne with me, narrowly avoided hitting a cow. In fact, he’s my Melbourne mate, the person who understands why I love it the way I do.
He buried Scarlette for me, crying tears for her and I, doing the difficult job of plowing earth over her face.
He killed a massive, scary eyed spider for me, and climbed through my bathroom window when I lost my keys.
You know all of that. I guess I should fill you in on the bits you don’t know.
Like the way he took the day off work to help me move house. Like the way he put up with my cat crying at him the whole way from Paradise to TinyTrainTown, stuffed in a small plastic cage.
The way he has held me while I cried, while I sobbed. The way he has told me, repeatably, that I’m still lovable, that I’m still real, that I’m still a good mum and a top chick. That this wasn’t, isn’t my fault, and I’m doing the best I can.
I’ve never told you all that, in the first few weeks after Tony died, Bunny was my only salvation.
I barely remember it now, but I know how it felt. I remember nights on Bunny’s lounge, him trying desperately to distract me with funny movies and YouTube clips. Eating pizza and smoking ciggerettes, staying up late in the humid heat of summer. Crying myself to sleep, Bunny rubbing my back and telling me it was going to be OK.
Bunny takes phone calls in the middle of the night, when my breath catches with anxiety. He stays with me, when I am far too terrifying for everyone else, when the heat of my pain burns peoples skin.
Having been through this, lived through it… I count my true friends now, on my fingers. The people who have never let me down, have always been there for me. The people I can trust with my life, with my soul…
My Bunny, he’s at the top of that list.
In a world with so few people who are good and loving, right down to their very bones… Bunny is the most wonderful person I know.
My best mate. My soft place to fall.
Bunny… the best thing that I’ve gotten, new and fresh, that didn’t already exist in the Before… the best thing to come from this awful thing that happened to me… it’s you.
OK…. I’m totally going to blame this massive f**k up on the fact that I’ve been sick for the last few days.
Thanks to the one person who pointed this out, and the thousands of others who ignored my blatant stupidity.
Why, yes, I did publish a whole post about the awesome new newsletter I have starting this week… and I did forget to include the link to where you can actually sign up to receive it.
Altogether now….. duh.
So…. please, work with me here. Give me another chance. Sign up to the RRSAHM newsletter, titled What Lori Did and What Lori Did Next.
I promise, this time, that link, it works.
And it seems we have another anonymous admirer to add to my ever growing cache of nameless Net admirers… Mr (or Mrs) Cheers, more clues are much appreciated.