Mr T.

(North Earl Street Series).

Mr. T.

You are a dote.

A soft heart
in a world that is not always gentle,
caring so openly,
so innocently,
that people sometimes took advantage.

I never did.

Instead, I watched you go
to extraordinary lengths for people,
more than most ever would.

You told me you were a survivor.

You told me how long it had taken
to go to the guards,
and how much it had cost you
to finally speak.

I understood.

Some wounds do not end
when the telling begins.

You have a place in my heart.

I even wrote a character for you
in one of my novels,
because some people deserve
to live on in stories.

I remember how you loved your little dog,
your baby.

You worried as he grew older,
as though love itself
could hold back time.

For so long
you had no home.

Then at last
there was a place of your own,
a small space
for you and your dog,
a door you could close,
a home at last.

The last time I saw you,
you were heading to Dalkey,
going to your mother's
for a fry.

It is such an ordinary memory,
and perhaps that is why
I treasure it.

What stays with me most
is your kindness.

Not the kindness people talk about,
but the kind they live.

The kind that checks on a friend.

The kind that remembers
when someone is hungry.

The kind that sends people looking
to make sure they are all right.

Even when I had not seen you,
you were looking after me.

People would find me
with gifts from you,
small acts of care
that arrived exactly when they were needed.

You are one in a million,
Mr. T.

Thank you
for your kindness,
for your friendship,
and for being part of my life.

The world can be hard.

You never stopped trying
to make it softer for others.