Jamie Celthaul


This memorial was created to remember and celebrate the relationship Jamie and I had with each other. Jamie and I met when I was 15, he was 17. He was my older sisters boyfriends best friend. The first time we met…I can’t say it was a moment of magic. I was sitting at home at around 7pm at night, I was already in my PJs, watching the Simpsons on the lounge. When he walked in, I can remember thinking he was “such a hottie”, and hoping he wouldn’t see my with my wet post-shower hair, in my daggy PJs. Not that I thought that I had a chance, or that our meeting would lead anywhere, what with him being an “older guy” and all. It’s so strange to look back on the childishness of that time; and to think of the depths I would find myself in with this “hottie”, in naught but 4 short years!

Despite my initial thoughts, we did get to know each other, and began to bond- much to the flutter of my teenage heart. As I would learn, Jamie was the sort of guy who just seemed to see everyone in the world as an equal. When it came to starting up a conversation, no-one was too old, too shy, too important, too intelligent, too daggy…too much of a gawky, younger schoolgirl. We stayed in contact after my sisters boyfriend was out of the picture. He went to the brother school across the road, and used to give me lifts to and from school. Our conversations at first revolved largely around music, and he invited me to a few gigs, just the 2 of us. I thought nothing of all of this-he had a lot of female friends his own age, and I think deep down I assumed I was kind of a novelty, almost a pet project to him, and he was just getting the warm fuzzies by befriending this young girl and doing the “nice guy thing”. Eventually, the poor boy beat me over the head with it, and we started going out. I still have no flicker of a clue as to what he saw in me, but whatever that miscellaneous quality is, I am so glad to have possessed it.

He didn’t have a bad word to say for anyone, and no-one had a bad word to say for him. He saw the great in everything. That’s what made him such a fantastic artist. I remember looking at a photo of a dirty, mud-speckled street sign, and it being so beautiful that I cried.

As I sit here reminiscing on all the times we shared together, I can’t even begin describe how much he is missed. All those young, clueless car trips home from school in his rattly old car; those remarkable conversations where I really felt I was seeing the world through a different pair of eyes; all those nights spent staying up, falling about in laughter at the stupidest of things; being 1 part of a bigger “Jamie ‘n Kate” whole.

Jamie-I love you. It’s no fun talking to an empty chair. Everyday I just wait for you to show up out of nowhere and point out that flower growing out a crack in the pavement, or ask me what I think a cloud in the sky is shaped like. You made my world beautiful.


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