A rainy cycle through Brompton Cemetery sparks reflections on mortality and living fully. In this letter, I share truths on youth, love, purpose, and kindness, lessons I hope Leo carries forward, perhaps one day passing them to a younger sibling…

You know I’ve lived in London for 10 years now. I moved to Putney with your uncle Adam and landed my first job with your other uncle (unrelated uncle) Carlos in Mayfair. Since then I’ve bounced around South West London, and a decade later I am still discovering new parts of town. London is MASSIVE and despite what people may say, and all the reasons why it is perhaps not the best fit for your dad, London is a gift that keeps on giving. This morning I headed for the tube station, inspired by our little adventure to the doctors just recently. But, I got cold feet at the entrance of the station, spotted a forest bike and decided to cycle in the rain to the office. I went a different route which took me through Brompton Cemetery. Now people have often described this place to me as beautiful, a great place for a walk. Even your mum has pedalled this message, though I'm not even sure she’s been and she is London born and raised. Well, I can tell you my cycle through the cemetery gave me heebie jeebies and not in a good way. Your godfather Scott is pretty comfortable with the notion that one day, we are all going to die. In fact, he's often carrying some kind of tote or memorabilia that says the words, ‘Memento Mori’. Which is a reminder of exactly what I just said, inevitable death for us all. I think this is kinda strange, then again, walking through with acceptance of this fact might safeguard our emotions and protect us somehow. I think your dad is too sensitive and perhaps in this case too emotional to ponder on the facts for too long. Back to the cemetery - I couldn't get out of there quick enough. It wasn't an inspiring ride to work, but still it made me think and affirm thoughts that ramble around in my head. If life here is a one time ride, with no pause or rewind button, then we really ought to live life to the fullest. 

I'm not sure exactly what age you will be when you read these letters, but whatever stage of life you are at, take this message forward with you.

Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth.

Don't worry about the future. 

The real troubles in your life happen to be the things that never crossed your worried mind before. 

The kind that blindsides you on some idle Tuesday.

Don't be reckless with other people's hearts. 

Don't put up with people who are reckless with yours. 

Don't waste your time on jealousy. Sometimes you're ahead, sometimes you're behind

But the race is long, and in the end it's only with yourself.  

Don’t feel guilty if you don’t know what you want to do with your life. 

Some of the most interesting 40 years olds I know (Carlos) still don’t know.

But don’t waste your time doing things that don’t align with who you are. 

Know who you are and stick with it. 

Finally, be kind to your siblings. 

As I write to you now, you don't have a brother or a sister but your mum and I started a journey with some doctors just yesterday to see if we can fix that. 

Who knows in years to come you could be reading this letter to your younger sibling. 

Wouldn't that be a turn out for the books. 

Always, 

Daddy

P.S The advice above is inspired by one of your Grandad’s favourite songs, Everybody’s Free (to wear sunscreen) - Baz Lurhman. I remember so vividly Grandad used to play this song in the car on the way back to school. Must have been his way of sending a message to me.

Message received Dad.

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If this letter resonated with you, forward it to someone in your world who might need to read this.

Until the next letter

Ryan Libbey