Anthony: Hi, Jules.
Me: Hi, Ants.
Anthony: Happy anniversary.
Me: Not funny.
Anthony: So how did my first deathday go?
Me: Unexpectedly undramatic actually. I mean the sky didn’t fall in and it was a sunny day. Ming and I went to your grave and placed camellia branches just in front of the cross with your name on it that the funeral people provided. Then I used a red ribbon to tie a little wooden sign, with your name on it, onto the wrought iron bench I had provided months ago but that other bereaved people keep moving.
Anthony: And Ming?
Me: It was his idea to come with me to the cemetery with camellias. That was our plan, then we were going to come home and watch a comedy.
Anthony: I saw what you did next, Jules.
Me: Well Ming suddenly suggested going out for lunch at the Boyanup pub so we did and it was lovely! And he paid, of course, as he always does; he is such a gentleman, like you.
Anthony: But you always called me a tight-arse!
Me: Sorry, I got you mixed up with my dad. He was generous and you were stingy. Anyway, none of that matters now, Ants. Over lunch, Ming and I were reminiscing about funny incidents and we both still crack up about watching an episode of Midsummer Murders with you in which you said something like What an extraordinarily short woman!
The woman/character you were referring to was actually sitting down (which is why she seemed short to you). This was one of many first signs that we had Dementia in our midst.
Anthony: I didn’t know.
Me: I never told you. I didn’t want to embarrass you, Ants. You knew you had Parkinsons disease but you didn’t know about the dementia aspect.
Anthony: I know what I would have done.
Me: Oh great, heavenly hindsight – how kind of you!
Anthony: I would have done exactly what you did.
Me: Okay, okay, and sorry for being a tad argumentative on your deathday, but couldn’t you have given me a bit more of a warning?
Anthony: I did! Over and over again.
Me: I know! You had these TIAs and I kept thinking your death was going to happen any minute but you kept surviving, year after year, and that is why I was not at all ready for the actuality of your death; it wasn’t on my radar, Ants.
Anthony: I pushed your hand away on purpose, Jules.
Me: Why?
Anthony: I didn’t want you and Ming to see me die.
jmgoyder 
still sending his love on this day. he wanted you to see him as you knew him, full of life.
So surreal atm x
Wow, Julie – you have survived the first year of heartache and grief. For so long you were dealing with anticipatory grief and I had hoped it would ease things for you when Ants died. But I see now that I was mistaken. There is no true preparation for grief. It is a journey that is unknown until the time comes. You have traveled a long time now. I’m glad you write and connect with others that can support you during the lonely journey. No one can no the depth of your loss. You loved Anthony with your heart and soul – there is no letting go of that. I do hope the second year holds more moments of peace for you. Take good care of yourself and I’m so thankful for your wonderful son, Ming, who is so compassionate and loving. He is a remarkable testament to both you and Anthony.
Thank you so much Judy – I know you know a lot more than I know about grief and your wisdom and grace comes through time and time again, via your blogging and your music. You are such a one-off! I admire your resilience so much and it really helps me so much, beautiful friend xxx
You coped well with such an important anniversary, well done.
[…] via Your death day, August 23rd: Imagined conversation 67 — jmgoyder […]
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What a great way to celebrate Anthony’s life and Deathday. And celebrate you should. Ming had the right idea ….going out for lunch at the pub and reminiscing.
Laughter and Joy are the mainstay of any great marriage and you were lucky enough to have it in abundance before PD & Dementia took over.
I think you should spend more time celebrating those unique moments that made your marriage such a beautiful love story.
Death is not about endings. It’s about beginnings (and remembrance of a life well lived). Your life is full of one the most intense love stories of all time and the story has many chapters. I know Anthony would want you to make the most of the remaining chapters, because there are many more to come.
The Never-ending Story would be a good title.
Thanks Vicki – I think I am coming to the end of blogging in this particular style so your words of wisdom make a lot of sense to me.
Big hugs. The first of everything is so tough. I still suffer after Al has been gone four years
I am still amazed that it has been four years, Terri! Time seems to stand still – really weird.
The time flies very fast. You will see