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Dylan was funny then; he was all bathed and dressed up warmly in his winter “jamas,” and
little pointy snow cap and matching blue slippers. He would point a little finger at the noise
outside theatrically, and say “Wind, wind!” He had started to talk surprisingly early and
amazed us with his vocabulary. He was evidently a very smart child. We would then tuck
him up in his cot, and I would read Dr. Seuss or other children's books to him; sometimes
he would want me to read more, saying, “More, Daddy, more.” Other times he would be
sound asleep before I had read two pages; what an angel he was to see sleeping too; he
truly was a beautiful baby boy.
In 1984, the winds of restlessness and change began to blow. As is the case in so many
lives, change is inevitable, good or bad, and it is largely irreversible. I will never know if it
was I that changed or Judi, but our paths began to part company, slowly at first and almost
imperceptibly, but after a while unmistakably.
I will be the first to say that I am not a very easy person to get along with. I am aloof, some
would say snobby, and perhaps there is some truth in that. I am also very shy and suffer
greatly from a lack of self-esteem. I have an inferiority complex which manifests itself in
my thoughts, deeds, and actions. I have inherited my mother's Scottish nature and inde-
pendence of the need for people. Judi was one of my best friends, and sadly, through my
lack of wisdom and gratitude, I let her slip through my fingers. We had one love that was
shared by both of us though, and his name was Dylan.
When it appeared that Judi and I had reached an irreconcilable point in our relationship,
I stopped to think about what my life would be if Judi and I parted company. She would
surely get custody of our son, and rightly so, he was only two years old and needed his
mother. Even only at two years of age, Dylan had a place in our hearts that made it impos-
sible to imagine life without him. He gave us purpose and direction and was a continual
source of entertainment, inspiration, pride, fun, and laughter, and here I was on a dreadful
crossroad in my life where I had to take a new path that would plunge me into the black
abyss of great and tragic loss, sadness, fear, and lack of direction. Judi had been a tremend-
ous source of energy, decision making, and inspiration for me, and our potential parting
would void me of all this and worst of all, it would mean the loss of my son.
It was too much for me to absorb, and I tried to ignore it. Perhaps it would go away. I star-
ted drinking more frequently. I stopped going to badminton at nights during the week, one
of my favorite pastimes. Instead I would find myself closing bars and sneaking home. My
friends stopped calling me, and customers began to go elsewhere. Judi seldom spoke to me
now, and tension was mounting in Bessie's Cottage.
Judi's and my situation worsened. One Sunday afternoon, when I had weaved into the har-
bor in Simon's Town, secured Déjà vu on her swing mooring, and rowed ashore, I was in for
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