My mother, Meg, who has featured in many of my posts over the years, has now launched her own blog. This is good timing as I am taking a blog sabbatical.
Anyway, her blog can be found at:
https://thatandalittlebitofthis.home.blog/
She is wise and funny and interesting so, if you feel like checking her out, it will be worth it!
Me: I miss you so much, Ants – sometimes it is like this silent, piercing, explosive shriek inside me and I can hardly bear the physical palpitating pain of it.
Anthony: Pull yourself together, Jules – you can do it.
Me: All this other wonderful stuff is happening but the joy I should be feeling is clouded over a bit by grief; it has now been 455 days since you died.
Anthony: 456 days to be exact.
Me: Are you kidding? Is there a time difference in Heaven?
Anthony: We do live in Western Australia, Jules.
Me: Was that a deliberate faux pas, Ants? You don’t live here anymore.
Anthony: I am in the air around the Aga.
Me: Oh shut up! Now I know you are kidding around and I guess that is what is the most painful thing for me – you had had so many TIAs but you always woke up again. When you did die, I thought for a moment that you just might be pretending.
Anthony: I am so sorry, Jules.
Me: Yeah, you did do the death thing brutally fast. I am glad for you but even after all of these long, longing, days, I am still a bit shocked at how fast I lost you.
Anthony: I miss you too, my beautiful girl.
Me: I will tell you more about your headstone tomorrow; it is absolutely perfect!
Anthony: I love you, Jules.
Me: The red speckled granite for your headstone has arrived and now Ming and I just have to finalise the wording and….
Anthony: Just keep it simple, Jules, don’t exaggerate.
Me: So do you want me to get rid of the header – The most beautiful man in the world ?
Anthony: No, that’s pretty accurate – keep that in.
Me: Noted. Okay, so then I want the inscription to say, succinctly, what you meant/mean to Ming and me, so I am tossing up between words like beloved, cherished, adored.
Anthony: All very apt but….
Me: Yes, I know you would really like the word worshipped in there but that doesn’t sit comfortably with me because I think it was you who worshipped me first and not the other way around.
Anthony: I beg to differ. You worshipped me first, Jules.
Me: Shut up! I thought we agreed that it was mutual years ago and anyway I don’t like the idea of worship because it implies godliness and you are the most ungodly person I have ever met.
Anthony: You keep forgetting where I am, Jules, so please refrain from the ungodly references.
Me: Okay so this is what I have so far: The Most Beautiful Man in the World/ Anthony Barr Goyder 1936 – 2017/ Admired and Respected by all who knew him/ Adored husband of Julie/Beloved father of Menzies. All of these little phrases are on separate lines on the headstone of course. What do you think?
Anthony: You do me proud, Jules.
Me: I still want to have a sort of punchline, like Unforgotten or Unforgettable but the first one has horror movie connotations and the second implies comedy. Plus I have been advised to leave room on the headstone for a few words about me for when I die.
Anthony: Oh … yes, I didn’t think of that.
Me: Ants, we never, ever had any sort of conversations about death, dementia, funerals because you always, always thought you were getting better and I let you believe that.
Anthony: You are a great liar…
Me: I loved you too much to tell you the truth. And anyway, why didn’t you tell me you were about to die? You never gave me a hint; you were in one of your slumps.
Anthony: I didn’t know I was going to die either, Jules.
Me: I thought you would overcome the slump, do another Lazarus, return to our ever-evolving new normal….
Anthony: It was a shock to me too, Jules.
Me: I am so glad that I nearly have your headstone done and dusted because it has been sort of haunting me in an unfinished business sort of way.
Anthony: It doesn’t matter, Jules….
Me: Yes it does, Ants.
Anthony: I am gone, Jules.
Me: No, you are not gone, Ants – you are here.
Ants and Gutsy 2013?
Me: Exciting news, Ants.
Anthony: Well, it is about time, Jules. The white noise of our conversations was beginning to bore me.
Me: Yeah, same, so anyway one of my blog friends and I are going to collaborate in a project that synchronises her illustrations with our conversations.
Anthony: Which conversations?
Me: Not sure yet but probably some of the funnier dementia dialogues and maybe a few of the imagined conversations … what do you think? Here is the link to her blog:
https://bikecolleenbrown.wordpress.com/2018/08/26/figuring-it-out/
Anthony: I approve.
Me: You know, sometimes I cannot quite figure you out, in the NOW, I mean.
Anthony: C has it down pat – I am your angel now.
Me: No way am I going to think of you as my angel, Ants!
Me: I hope you realise that these conversations are not about me feeling sorry for myself.
Anthony: Of course I do, Jules.
Me: Mostly I feel really lucky. I don’t think I understood what a rare relationship we had until after you died.
Anthony: An against the odds love story.
Me: There is no need to steal my phrases!
Anthony: You are only two years older than I was when we got married.
Me: Now that is quite weird. Your point?
Anthony: I began a brand new life at 57. You can do that too, at 59.
Me: I hope you aren’t suggesting me getting a boyfriend! Two people have already suggested that. Bleah!
Anthony: JESUS, MARY AND JOSEPH, NO!
Me: Why are you speaking in an Irish accent?
Anthony: There are a lot of Irish nuns here.
Me: Oh, okay.
Anthony: You know your idea of working on a book about grief with C as illustrator?
Me: Yes.
Anthony: Genius.
Me: Thanks for the go-ahead. That means a hell of a lot.
Anthony: No need to mention hell; it is a bit of a dirty word here.
Me: Anyway, I just wanted you to know that I am not feeling sorry for myself, just sad, missing you, and kind of wanting go back in time and re-do some of our situations differently.
Anthony: Like you boiling the marmalade all over the Aga?
Me: No, more like you telling me off for being unavailable to look after your mother just after my dad died, when I wanted to comfort my own mother.
Anthony: It wasn’t a particularly good start was it.
Me: No, and it was so embarrassing (in retrospect) for me to be so transparently in love with a man twice my age. 60 Minutes recently did a story about this, so the shock/horror of a 23-year age difference is still newsworthy.
Anthony: I know that these conversations are imagined, Jules, but there is something real about them too.
Me: I feel compelled to keep talking to you like this, at least until August is over. Ming has been amazing, and keeps telling me to tell him if I am particularly depressed, always offering me hugs.
Anthony: My son.
Me: Yes. The dogs are comforting too!
Anthony: Good night, Jules.
Me: Good night, Ants.
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 