To Elm

Happy Birthday mate.
Hope you’re up there enjoying yourself with all the cool bikes and gadgets you can possibly imagine.

It’s 2 years today since Elm was killed.
I visited the crematorium yesterday and took a photo of the entry in the book of remembrance for him.
It’s a poor photo so apologises, I’ll try to get a better one next year.
Below is what it says.

To the best mate possible.
Choose Life, Choose a job,
Choose a family, I wish you
could have had the choice.

RIP mate. I miss you.

It was a year today that Elm was killed.
I went to the crematorium where he was cremated. Somehow there’s nothing to commerate him there. The only record of him having been cremated there is on the computer records. Otherwise no plaque to him and no entry in their book of remembrance.

That’s incensed me so I will be adding an entry in the book for him shortly. It costs £38 for 2 lines or around £75 for 5 lines.

If anyone’s interested in the details of this, feel free to email me at jen_jea@NOSPAM.yahoo.co.uk .

RIP Elm.
I miss you

Today would have been Elm’s 19th Birthday.
There’s not much more I can add to the entries below other than that I miss him. I miss him every day and I always wish I could talk to him just for a little bit longer.
It’s quite sad how you only realise just what a wonderful friend someone was, when they’re gone and you can’t tell them that.
There’s not a day goes by that I don’t think of you mate. You said I’d forget about you one day, when I was busy with my life. I’m busy now but I’m never too busy to miss you.

This morning I was indulging in that oh so Canadian pursuit, I was frying bacon. An art which requires vigilance, but is also an ideal time for reflection. As is always the way when grieving, thoughts constantly return to the missing loved one. I was asking myself what I wanted to say, and why I wanted to say it, should I post. Although my feelings for Russell were very private, and very tender, I must post because I owe it to him, and to his memory. I owe it to his parents and family and his friends, in the hopes they may read it and know how those who were fortunate enough to spend time with him felt, and that we share their loss. I hope they take some comfort in what I, and others, write. I owe it to myself, for the chance to express this loss I feel, and to allow myself to go through the horrible human process of grief.
For those of you who frequent Lobby One in Yahoo, you’d know me as Savoy Truffle. I’m not always there, but have been occasionally for many years. “Elmo” was one of those names that had always been there, a fixture. I wasn’t such a reg, so to me he wasn’t a child that I watched grow into a young man. I’m not sure when I first sent him a private message, it might have been to congratulate him on earning his licence. I had promised him a kiss when he accomplished that, and I had no doubt that he would. At the time the room was busy, as it usually is, so I sent that congratulatory kiss to him via pm. And a very unexpected thing happened.
There are such times when two spirits seem to meet and touch, despite the medium or the distance or the disparity in circumstance. This man-child, without fanfare or even eloquence, held me in his virtual arms and that simple kiss reached us both on a level too seldom felt in our daily lives. It surprised him too. Naturally, we would talk whenever the opportunity arose. As a woman over twice his age, I was determined to remain somewhat aloof. I knew his value. One day I knew he would fall in love and marry and he would raise a family, as he wished to do. Obviously I’m ill equipped to predict destiny, as now that can never be. That loss alone is beyond words to me.
We talked about all sorts of things, about family and friends, about fears and aspirations, even about death and life after death. He displayed a quiet wisdom and maturity in so many things, beyond his years. I knew he would make a fine husband some day, because he possessed those rare qualities women look for in a mate. He was always infinitely patient with me, though I knew he had a temper, we talked about that too. I felt safe. I felt loved. Of course I loved him too, that surprised him as well. Few people possess that sort of humility. I know he felt he wouldn’t be missed much if he were to leave us, no matter what I said to the contrary.
He had talents, perhaps more than he ever realized. He was as true a friend as anyone could ever ask for. Despite his stature, he was one of the most gentle people I’ve ever known. He was among the most tolerant, giving and loveable of souls to grace this Earth. As a parent, I cannot begin to imagine the unspeakable loss his parents must feel. For Russell, the purpose he had among us has been fulfilled and he has moved on. To each of those who knew him, he will be remembered, and few would not treasure that memory.

Yes, sweet Russell, I did love you dearly, and will always. When you left, you did it quickly, doing what you loved best to do, for that I am thankful. I know where you are now, as you were light, so you return to become light. I will see you again.

It’s sad the loss of one so young
A life unlived a heart unsung
I met Russell about four years ago in a place I tend to spend to much time. Those older and supposedly wiser who visit there tend to lose their grasp upon reality, but he never did. Always flippant and as some thought rude, I soon discovered he had a big heart and felt most of the normal things we all do but was better at seeming not to than most. I once hurt his feelings by accident and it soon became evident that he wasn’t missing anything said, but he chose what to reply to and what to let go. Ever since that incident I made a point of inquiring how he was and what he was up to. He was far better skilled in many things computer related than I am, and always tried to help others to understand.
His interest in motorcycles was well known to us all and several of us cautioned him to be careful while riding, and more so since he had several close calls and incidents. I knew that he was shy in life but on the internet he could be bold and decisive, and I’m sure had he been given time he would have been in life as well. He seemed well able to master any skills that interested him and would have had a fine career in the Navy or whatever field he chose.
I’m a parent and my first thoughts go out to his parents and his family. It’s truly terrible to lose a child, and nothing will heal their sorrow but time.
I have no idea if you will ever see this, but if you do I hope it gladdens you a bit to know Russell touched so many people in so many walks of life. You have my heart felt condolences.
To the others who knew him through the internet I can only say that he lives on as long as we remember him. So we must, he deserves a long life.
Rest he there in clouds on high
A shining light to guide us by

Elm/Russell was an incredibly close friend of mine. Although I never met him I saw him as a very good friend, he knew everything about me and I felt comfortable talking about anything and everything to him. Although to many he seemed rather cocky and arrogant, underneath he was just using that as a cover to hide his great insecurities and lack of confidence in himself. Underneath he was warm and caring and considerate. He’d listen to all my problems without once moaning and offer good advice. He was pretty wise beyond his years when it came to advice.
He was also very kind. I remember once when life wasn’t going that great for me, he sent me his gameboy for my birthday because he said I’d use it more than him and it’d cheer me up. He also sent my parents a hard drive of his when theirs failed and we were short of cash for a replacement.

He always said how he hoped one day he’d get out of the rut he was in and he’d have the nerve to talk to girls he liked, I always knew that whoever that girl was he’d treat her like a princess. Didn’t have one mean bone in his body, he would have given that girl the world. He wanted children because he adored children even though he was hardly out of childhood himself.

I tried to always be there for him, treated him like my little brother. I hoped to one day meet him but he was always shy about meeting up, just shy because he was scared I wouldn’t like him which was silly. There would have been no way that I couldn’t have liked him.

He had plans for his future. He was working for a local petrol station raising money so he could go to the gym regularly. He planned, once fit, to join the Navy. He was aiming to be a Communications Technician in the Royal Navy. He figured not only would it do him good, it’d boost his confidence and give him some qualifications.

He had a great love of bikes. He owned a Honda VFR750F and he always felt amazing on his bike. He said it was the ultimate adrenaline rush, the only time he really felt alive and happy. Sadly, riding his bike was the last thing he ever did.
Taken from: http://archive.thisishampshire.net/2005/8/12/93142.html

Police say the 18-year-old swerved to avoid a tractor pulling out of a track onto the westbound carriageway of A27 between the Ashfield and Luzborough roundabouts when his motorycle was in collision with an oncoming Skoda Felicia.

He died at the scene on the 5th August 2005. The night after I last spoke to him.

Elm would have been amazed by this. He honestly thought no one cared about him, that no one would notice if he was gone. If he can look down at this he’s probably laughing in disbelief at how upset people are over this. I know I can’t quite believe he’s gone and it’ll take a long time to fully accept it. I’ll never forget him. I still half expect him to log onto MSN and say ‘HA fooled you!’.

His name on MSN is still ‘Choose Life’. One of his favourite dance tracks was from the film Trainspotting with a track that had these lyrics:

RIP mate.

Please feel free to either add a comment about Elm or create your own account and write your own entry about him.