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Text Box: The “Lost Years”-3

     The ’lost years’ are never truly lost. In this case they are the years when Will and I shared in developing our sense of the world. Every evening we would climb into bed to read aloud to each other from the biographies of the Impressionists or the Fauves. We would share our ideas about the representation of colour and form or read about the science behind our understanding of water, air, earth and fire or representations of light and sound.
    There are many things I could have wished to say to William in seeking a reworking to the bad ending of our relationship. It wasn’t so much that he had left that hurt as the manner he chose to leave. I felt deserted and betrayed in my trust of him and it was 

Text Box: difficult to move on. But what I wanted to say to William shifted somewhat after I learned from our mutual friend, Phil York, that he had come looking for Ila and I in the mid 1980s. Phil felt he was protecting me when he lied and told William he didn’t know where to find me.
     Now that William has passed on and it is clear that none of what I wanted to tell him can be said now. I cried for weeks when I heard the news though it was nearly 3 decades since we had shared words. 
     These are the ‘lost years’ for we have truly
lost him 
early and 
he was 
not done.
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