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i was never taught to dream big, i was from a single parent family, and we were very working class, with no aspirational yearnings.
nobody’s fault, probably just a generational, cultural stereotype of working class life.
sport gave me confidence, and i thrived and grew in the arenas i played, whether it was ice hockey rinks, football pitches or smoky north london pool halls, i competed, and strived to excel.
but my desire to dream really big has been fuelled like never before with this legacy to my best friend, and it motivates me daily to swing for the fences to use a baseball term.
and this week has been no different, as i received a message from a dear friend whose daughter came to us for help.
aged 11.
she spoke of panic attacks.
crying.
dr’s putting her on a waiting list for help.
more panic attacks.
thoughts of suicide.
a fragile young girl, aged 11.
our fractured society offered no way out.
waiting lists only exacerbated the problem.
my friend was close to losing her baby.
her child she had carried for nine months.
distraught every day, not knowing how the day would end.
fearing the worst.
this is not a unique story.
throughout our civilised island we have hundreds of similar stories, often ending with devastating consequences.
but this friend reached out for help.
to us.
and we gave hope.
immediately.
and her child is now happy.
and thriving.
and my friend sent me a picture of them both, smiling together, on the beach, which i wish i could share, the joy radiates from both their faces.
so moose, while we lost you too early, the motivation from your death to help others, and my desire to dream big, is a legacy i hope makes you proud mate.
blue skies,
jeff
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