jmgoyder

Since Anthony died, apart from the next day when we cleared his room, I haven’t been back to the nursing home. I’ve wanted very much to go back but was too nervous that I might disintegrate so I just sent a thank you card in which I said I’d bring a thank you gift soon. I arranged, then disarranged, to meet my mother, Meg, there twice but today we finally actually did it.

I had bought three of those extra long toblerone chocolate thingies and a ribbon to tie them together with. My mother and I met in the parking lot and we walked in together but, just as we were about to turn the corner into the hallway where Anthony’s room was, I began to cry. Meg suggested maybe not today but I really wanted to get it over with – to give the gift, to walk up that hallway, to peek into Anthony’s room, and to give the woman in the room opposite his a hug.

The male nurse who was in charge today accepted the chocolates and gave me a look of such wonderful sympathy but the crying had kicked in so I kind of fled, with my mother just behind me. Back down the hallway past not-Anthony’s-room-anymore to the outside.

There is a little area outside with chairs and I have often wondered who might sit there. Now it was us – my mother and me – I cried and she hugged me. Various staff, coming and going, saw us and came over to have a chat/hug and I gradually calmed down and stopped crying.

It will be easier to visit people in the nursing home next time. I plan to take little Pip in to see the various residents who I have become so fond of over the years.

I have a great big thank you in my heart – to everyone at the nursing home who cared so wonderfully for this beautiful man.

Thank you.

M

We weren’t a perfect team – Ants, Ming and me – but we were a team, the three of us. And, when I look at these photos (which my mother must have taken because she gave Ants the 80th birthday goblet that I am holding in the photos), I can see the love we three had/have for each other.

I am a bit astounded that I am writing so much about losing Anthony but I can’t seem to stop! The blogosphere is, of course, a perfect place to loosen the ties of day-to-day restraint and I am actually enjoying writing about our wonderful relationship – about me, about Anthony, and about Ming.

I think a love story like this is worth writing about.

The two electricians who were working on re-wiring the whole house the same week Anthony died were probably a bit nonplussed at my behaviour in the before-and-after days. At one point I came home and wrote the funeral notice at one of our outside tables and, as there was a deadline for later that day and Ming wasn’t home, I came back into the house and asked the two electricians for feedback.

They were on a coffee break in the kitchen and they didn’t mind at all. So I read them what I had written:

Anthony, you are still here with us – with me, and with Ming. You can be seen in all of the camellias you planted, and heard in the squawking of your guinea fowl. You are inside the taste of salmon mornay, and the aroma of the dairy cows. But you are also not here – stained glass of my soul ….

Okay, so it was at that last sentence that I got stuck with an adjective dilemma. I had wanted to say “my shattered soul” or “my sliced soul” or something like that and J. said it was good but G. said it was a bit much so I took this advice and simply got rid of the adjective and finished it with …

… the king of Paradise Road. Beautiful husband. Beautiful father. We love you, Anthony.

I am so grateful to these two wonderful electricians who not only fixed our power problems but also gave me editorial advice, and comfort, during that horrible week.

I have had to see our lawyer, social services, contact our accountant and financial advisor, reply to condolence messages, meet with friends and pull myself together.

During the week that Anthony died, we experienced heavy rain and storms, so much so that our power went out. Man-of-the-house, Ming said we should wait until the sun came back and the power might come back. In the meantime we lived with a lantern until I insisted on calling the electrician. They began work on the water-damaged electrics on Monday and Anthony died on Wednesday (it all seems like yesterday now, but this was nearly five weeks ago).

Due to having no power, I had arranged to stay at my mother’s place for the duration of electrical repairs. This never happened as Anthony went downhill so quickly I ended up sleeping at the nursing home for a couple of nights (this is where my confusion kicks in; was it one or two nights?)

I hate this confusion – my mind feels like mush and I keep forgetting conversations and arrangements and plans made, or else getting mixed up. And when, this afternoon, the insurance assessor came out to suss the claim, I completely forgot who she was and sobbed while I tried to explain the water damage etc. She was so kind.

So many people have been so kind – relatives and friends; blog friends; Facebook friends. All of those kind words have been matched with real and virtual hugs and I am so grateful for this throng of support. I am not the only person in the world to have lost someone they love this fiercely and I so ‘get it’ – the shock+grief.

Apart from the feeling that Anthony is in our hearts in an ongoing way, there is still, also, the fact that he is dead. This is made plain to me in my midnight sobs, my scrambled egg mornings, Ming’s presence, the black and white tiles on the kitchen floor and no Anthony sock-prints any more.

Perhaps my confusion is borne of a temporary inability to face the word/concept that Anthony is, indeed, dead.

Dead, death, dying – these are all words that don’t scare me any more but I am still so confused.

It is almost impossible to describe the wonder of my retreat experience last week. KalyaaNa (https://www.kalyaanawellnessretreat.com.au/) is an extraordinary place run by an extraordinary woman, Karen.

I arrived at 2pm last Tuesday and was greeted with a hug, shown around the premises and made to feel comfortable and at ease immediately. Having never been to a health retreat, I wasn’t sure what to expect and was surprised to find that I was the only guest. Karen told me that another woman would be arriving soon. She showed me to my suite – a beautiful room with an adjoining spa bathroom and told me that if I wanted to be left alone to just put the ‘do not disturb’ sign on my door.

That little sign was respected throughout my stay and my tight grip on privacy loosened over the ensuing days. But that first night I asked for room service because I wasn’t ready to face even a little bit of socialising. Karen brought me the most amazing salad as an entrée, then the best laksa I’ve ever tasted. My stomach was still clenched so I couldn’t finish the laksa but it re-awakened my taste buds!

The next morning I emerged from my room and met the other guest, J. at the dining room table. Karen asked us to pick out a juice from the menu and then proceeded to make it with fresh ingredients. Then J and I had to choose what we’d like for breakfast and, again, there were a lot of choices. I almost always went for the poached eggs because Karen somehow knew how to turn this simple meal into art.

That same day, I just relaxed in my suite and watched Foxtel (a novelty!) until my first scheduled meditation session with Karen.

I am off for a little retreat so will be off-line for a bit. Once again, many thanks for messages to Ming and me. I still can’t quite believe that Anthony has gone.