Joe Hammond - A Short History of Falling

I can tell you, very specifically, the ways that led me to fall so much in love with Joe.

1 When, after only knowing me a few days, he walked across Oxford to come and light a fire for me in the flat where I was living because I couldn’t get it started and there was a power cut.

2 When I watched him dive into the sea and fling himself with such abandon and joy from cliffs and off the edge of waterfalls.

3 When we strayed from our boring package holiday to navigate the heavily armed guards at the Egyptian/Israeli border just to see what could be found on the other side. This was two days before the hotel we ended up staying in was bombed.

4 When we stood at the stage door of the Royal Court stalking the actress Lindsay Duncan to give her a letter and a script. She replied later that night to say she must perform his monologue and she did!

5 When we roamed the frosty back streets of Paris for hours without a map or any idea of which way to get back to our coach. I was less impressed by Joe’s determination to nurse some camembert cheese in his lap the whole 12-hour journey home, emitting frequent expressions of despair about its core temperature.

6 I fell more in love when I finally realised that I had to stop completing Joe’s sentences because although Joe thought and spoke far slower than me, in reality, he said more with much less and his brain interpreted the world in such a unique and beautiful way.

7 Then came the day when he asked me ‘What are you thinking?’ I was perplexed. I wondered what I was supposed to say, but his manner and tone made me realise that he really wanted to know and he wanted me to tell him the truth. I don’t know about you – but no one had really asked this of me before.

This simple question became so integral to our relationship. Something was created that became the foundation to everything in my life from that moment on. It was the simply complex notion of truth.

I knew that Joe would always tell me the truth and more importantly he would listen to my truths – even if they were hard to say or hard to hear. And this gave birth to something so precious and beautiful: trust.

For the very first time in my life, I knew exactly what love is. In my mind these two words united together as integrity. The huge presence of Joe was made more solid and substantial by his quest for truth and in the trust we found from sharing this. Joe lived by the Bettlheim quote: ‘If you speak the truth then words come easily,’ and what a beautiful craft he made with those words.

Joe always said that his work in schools for excluded, dysfunctional boys or in some of the most challenging care homes for young people was purely to finance writing. It’s funny though, he kept ending up there. There are far easier ways to earn money! But in these places honesty and trust were at their most critical. Children, but especially those dispossessed, see things with such clarity and don’t stand for the bullshit that most of us churn out. It gave Joe a perfect training ground for parenting, and anyone who saw him with his boys will know what power his solid presence has had upon them. I know this is embedded in their hearts and will bring them strength as they figure out the coming phases of their lives.

I’m aware that Joe might be starting to sound like a man of pure virtue, almost saint-like in his qualities. Of course, he was as flawed as all of us and we had our difficulties.

Tragic situations are, however, incredibly revealing – they illuminate our character, bring clarity and show us our most honest selves. I was in absolute awe of how Joe navigated this crazy disease. He sifted through his life to bring close the people and things that mattered most. He let go of everything that didn’t enrich our lives and he channeled his energy into sorting out his affairs, both the practical and the emotional. He never asked ‘Why me?’ and he told me there was no time to feel sorry for himself: such valuable lessons for living. He wanted to leave this world knowing that the boys and I were safe, and he made extraordinary things happen to achieve this. Humour and joy were part of everything – right until the very end.

So, I look back on our time together. And I remember Joe’s face the day he returned from a 40-mile motorbike ride in Indonesia with six live crabs in his backpack. Or the pout on his face when he posed in the party wig that he would happily have worn every day. Or the pride we felt over a bucket full of mulberries he made us gather from Crystal Palace park with a step ladder on the day of the London riots. Or the joy at eating his homemade kimchi and the satisfaction he had seeing great vats of the stuff in our fridge. Or the wily way he would get his Nigerian friends to cook him Jollof rice by stoking rivalry between them! But it was with Tom and Jimmy where you saw the soul of Joe at work. Nothing mattered more to him than his two boys and he was – without exaggeration – an inspirational father.

I was privileged to hold his hand to the very end. I kissed him as he took his final breaths. I witnessed his bravery and spirit and I hope I can continue to find this strength within me. I am grateful for the time we have had. I am grateful for our cheeky, charming children. I am grateful for the food he cooked and the curious things that would make him laugh. I am grateful for his huge arms and loving embrace. I am grateful for all the things we taught each other and the integrity that glued us together and I am incredibly grateful for all the adventures, both the whacky and the tough. He would actually have been useless on University Challenge.

My grief is eased knowing that Joe is to be found amongst my friends but also with you, the reader, who will take this little journey into your lives. And I am comforted to know that at the end, it really is okay.

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