wings and things

Imagined conversation 21

on March 26, 2018

Anthony: Didn’t you already write this … twice?

Me: Yeah, I know, but Ming doesn’t want to be part of these conversations, Ants, so that was a bit unwise on my part.

Anthony: Why?

Me: Well, it’s difficult enough recapturing your pre-dementia voice without also trying to invent Ming’s might-be voice when he isn’t the slightest bit interested.

Anthony: That’s my boy.

Me: Exactly. You see what I mean, then. These imagined conversations become really contrived if I include him and he….

Anthony: So, Ming has moved on?

Me: Well, I think you know the answer to that, Ants; Ming moved on a few years ago, before you even went into the nursing home. He did try.

Anthony: Why would you think that I would want my teenage son to hug me when I couldn’t hug him back?

Me: I just wanted you to know how much he loved you, Ants.

Anthony: By forcing him?

Me: Okay, I get it and I’m sorry. I get it now.

Anthony: Jules, there is absolutely nothing to worry about. Ming knows me and I know Ming.

Me: So should I just leave you guys alone? Is that what you mean?

Anthony: Just leave him alone, Jules, and let these conversations be just between you and me. It’s easier that way.

Me: I feel a bit stupid now to have contrived those last two dialogues, with a pretend-Ming. Plus he gets so angry when I try to do that.

Anthony: So why do you do it?

Me: Because I want it all back, Ants! Can’t you understand that? I want the three of us back together ten years ago before you got so bloody sick!

Anthony: Jules?

Me: What now?

Anthony: You can’t have it back – it’s gone. Ming understands this and it’s time you did too.

Me: And now you sound like all of those people I want to smash who say “isn’t it about time you moved on?”

Anthony: But isn’t it?

Me: Sometimes I really HATE you for dying. I absolutely HATE you!

Anthony: I know, but….

Me: Yes, of course you know, don’t you, you smug, supercilious, heavenly bastard – I am so angry I can hardly function, Ants; I want to kill the world.

Anthony: You don’t mean that.

Me: That has been your pat answer for anything remotely dramatic I have ever said. Stop always trying to shut me up!

Anthony: Jules?

Me: Now what?

Anthony: These conversations are coming to an end.

Me: Why? What did I say wrong? I’m so sorry, Ants – I didn’t mean any of it and of course I don’t hate you….

Anthony: Ming has already done it.

Me: Done what? What, Ants?

Anthony: Ended it.

Me: But….

12 responses to “Imagined conversation 21

  1. I don’t think I will ever stop talking with my dad. It’s a very difficult time for you Jules. Be kind to yourself while you navigate through it. There is no universal timeline to start or stop anything. ♡
    Diana xo

  2. and the anger is a natural stage in grieving – give yourself space and time. wish I could give you a hug . (hug) will have to do I am afraid.

  3. Wow. This is so part of grief-the anger,I mean, and the bargaining. You describe it so well. There could always be another book available on grief because it is not something our society deals with well and we need all the help we can get. At the same time I want to reach out to you , send a hug and remind you to take care of yourself, be gentle because this is so heart-wretching. At the same time, my gut tells me that you know best.

  4. Just a bit more, after reading Diana’s comment, if I may. I remember I felt like absolute crap after my Dad died. Lots of support for a couple of weeks , then I felt like I was on my own. I was at the gym months later, just struggling through my work-out and I exclaimed to one of the staff ” how long does this grieving take!?” This young but wise man replied, “It takes as long as it takes.” It was such a simple reply and comforting.I felt so grateful.

  5. You have these conversations for as long as you need to have them

  6. tootlepedal says:

    Are you talking to Ming?

  7. Anonymous says:

    Your heavenly Anthony is so wise.

  8. I don’t have any words of brilliant wisdom Julie. Just words of support. You do what you need to do. I think you have done in written form what many people have done for a very long time when someone has left. You wonder what they would say/think/respond. It makes sense. The pain, the need to hear his voice in your head and in your heart.

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