Dear Sandra

Dear Sandra,

I don't know where to begin, but as you once told me, "We've all got to start somewhere," so I'm starting here.

Every time we get close to Christmas, I look back at one significant period in my life, when I felt I was friendless.

That year was 1998, which as you would remember if you were still with us, was the unhappiest time in my life.

I had lost my children, and I had been forced into homelessness, because of the trauma I was going through, and endured a very long, painful journey of PTSD.

I was admitted to a hospital in Scarborough in 1998, where I met you and the man who you also knew so well, of whom I married in 1999.

My admission was a tough one.

I stood at the door of that hospital with three paramedics in tears, and terrified, and I couldn't remember my name, or where I'd come from.

I was in that hospital for six months, and I didn't have any friends or family to turn to.

I didn't speak to anyone for weeks, and I spent most of my time in our shared dormitory, not even wanting to come downstairs for food or drink.

The doctors medicated me after my diagnosis which calmed me down a little, and I started coming down, though only to get drinks and try a tiny amount of food.

Over time, I managed to sit in a room with everyone else, though every time I did; I curled up in a corner, crying with my head in my hands.

You were the very first person to talk to me, and you offered me a dressing gown to sleep in because I had no clothes or nightwear.

You were always chatting to me and giving me things. Sometimes I had to give those things back even though you argued with me over it because you would give me things that were precious to you without realizing it.

Everyone else ignored me, even the staff, but you always tried to make an effort to befriend me, and you always had a smile for me.

A smile that made all the stars shine brighter in my dark world.

I remember stammering every time I tried to talk because I lost the ability to speak a sentence properly, without fear for a while due to having been left completely alone and terrified on the streets.

You didn't let that stop you. You brought out my confidence with your kindness and your caring attitude, and you showed me that not everyone wanted to hurt me.

You even stood by me and encouraged me to talk to the 'nice man,' on the ward off whom I had a crush on, even though I was terrified and I had the notion that all men were the same because I had been repeatedly hurt in serious ways by men for many years.

I and that man are still flourishing together today, even though we have had our difficulties, and we have been married since 1999.

I want you to know that your friendship taught me that I wasn't someone who wasn't worthy of friendship. I was a victim of abuse, which I did not deserve, and I know now that I did not deserve to be punished for speaking out about what I had been through, even though everyone, including many professional people who were supposed to be working with me, did not listen to my truth.

You were right; my abusers should have been punished, and I should never have been made to feel I was a bad person for what I had been through.

Sadly my abusers still walk free, even though I continued to suffer and lost everything for many years.

On a positive note, I survived because you taught me that my life was worth more.

I am worth more.

I have learned today that there are people who deserve my kindness, but there are also people who don't, and I have every right to walk away from situations that hurt me.

I have learned that I deserve to be happy, but I also deserve to love myself with or without others, and I have rebuilt my world into a much more positive world with my husband's support, and by remembering your kindness.

I still have the dressing gown you gave me back in 1998.

It's my little reminder to remember you and to remember that I am always worthy, valued, beautiful, and loved, but that love must come from myself to me first and foremost.

When I look back; I miss you, but I know that I can keep rebuilding my life because your strength and love still live in my heart forever.

At the time we met, you were ill yourself, and you had the onset of dementia, but even still, you let your love shine, even when you forgot who I was.

I tried to find you after I and my husband left the ward, but I found out that you sadly passed away shortly after we left. I still believe you are watching me, and I can still hear your words and see your smile.

I know you are still there every time I get that little pink dressing gown out of my wardrobe, and the words you say are,

"You are loved."

I never got to say what I wanted to say to you, so I will write those words here, and I hope they reach through the stars to you.

Thank you for being the only person who showed me true friendship during the hardest period in my life.

Your close friend,

Carol.