jmgoyder

wings and things

Oct 29

Imagined conversation 75

by jmgoyder

Me: Picture this, Ants.

Anthony: Picture what?

Me: Well, it happened on the very day I had decided to dress nicely even if just home alone (a psychological trick I have been teaching myself lately to boost my sense of wellbeing).

Anthony: And?

Me: D and J dropped in unexpectedly and I was still in my pyjamas.

Anthony: So what?

Me: It was 2pm. Also, the grass was neck-high due to the fact that the lawnmowing family hadn’t been able to come for awhile, and there were two rabbit corpses at the front door.

Anthony: So what?

Me: I was embarrassed!

Anthony: What did Ming say?

Me: Ming said he was embarrassed by me being embarrassed and that I should stop saying sorry.

Anthony: Sorry for what?

Me: Exactly.

Anthony: Are you okay, Jules?

Me: Yes and no, Ants.

Anthony: Everything will be fine, Jules.

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Me: The moonflower had to be cut down recently, Ants, because of the root problem; it was entangled with the un-killable camphor laurel, both of which were attacking the foundations of the house!

Anthony: Being in heaven has given me a new perspective so it is fine with me.

Me: I will never, ever forget the day you took my hand for the first time and rushed me outside to look at the moonflower blooming. At the time I didn’t care at all about the flower; I was too amazed by the shock of my hand in yours.

Anthony: I remember, Jules.

Me: One of my favourite memories, Ants, despite the various difficulties that followed….

Anthony: I miss you, Jules….

Me: And I miss you, Ants, plus I am trying to keep the farm looking good and myself groomed etc.

Anthony: If you do something with your hair, everything will be fine, Jules.

Me: Arghhh!

 

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Oct 27

Imagined conversation 74

by jmgoyder

Me: I am losing track of the conversations a lot, Ants, now that they are diminishing in frequency.

Anthony: Oh how my soul is wounded, Jules – please don’t leave me!

Me: Very funny, Ants, but just a reminder –  you are the one who left. Anyway, the weirdest thing has happened; sometimes I go several days without thinking of you at all.

Anthony: Good grief!

Me: Well actually it probably is, literally, a good kind of grief because I am smiling and laughing more easily again and sometimes I feel a little bit high!

Anthony: You are doing much better than I expected, Jules – good on you!

Me: A couple of people have even told me that I look better, and that I seem to have turned a corner since August when I just could not stop talking to you…. and crying.

Anthony: Those were brilliant conversations though, Jules.

Me: Yeah, but I went a bit blank during that ghastly anniversary-of-your-death month. Ming said my eyes went all dull or something like that.

Anthony: And then?

Me: The advent of Spring! The end of August! A sense of irrational relief!

Anthony: Relief about what?

Me: Not relief that you are gone, but relief that I am getting over the fact that you are gone.

Anthony: But I am not gone!

Me: Of course, Ants, but can we please not have a semantics argument? Ming has that kind of thing down pat.

Anthony: How is my boy?

Me: He is a man, Ants and he is so much like you it is uncanny.

Anthony: How so?

Me: Well he cleans his teeth as if he is doing some sort of contortionist display of how to get whiplash, and he stands outside the front door to urinate most mornings much to my chagrin.

Anthony: Is there anything else?

Me: Wow, Ants – how come you are still fishing for compliments when you are dead?

Anthony: Posterity, Jules, posterity! Also, the Heavenly performance assessment tool questionnaire is doing my head in.

Me: Oh! Okay, just add that you have always had a sense of fun and irony? Self confidence, healthy ego, gregarious – that sort of thing.

Anthony: Sex appeal?

Me: Is there a box to tick for that?

Anthony: No.

Me: Is there a space for description of your attributes?

Anthony: Yes.

Me: Okay you can probably wax lyrical about your sex appeal here but try to describe this more soulfully.

Anthony: What?

Me: Forget it. I am absolutely sure you will pass. Anthony?

Anthony: Yes, Jules?

Me: Every time I write these imagined conversations, I want to leap through the skin of this world and hug you.

Anthony: Your wish is my command, Jules.

Me: Okay, Ants – thank you. I forgot to say how kind Ming is and that reminds me of you too; he is your/our legacy.

Anthony: May I have the last word?

Me: Of course!

Anthony: That was it.

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Oct 23

Lost for words….

by jmgoyder

Anthony: JULES!

Me: I lost count of our imagined conversations awhile ago – sorry, Ants.

Anthony: I know.

Me: So much private stuff blogged for the world to see, Ants. I am a bit embarrassed actually, now that my grief has calmed down.

Anthony: NEVER, EVER be embarrassed, Jules! It is beautiful.

Me: What is beautiful?

Anthony: Your love for me.

Me: What about your love for me?

Anthony: Surely that is a given?

Me: I just miss you saying it to me, Ants; it took so many years for you to be confident enough to say it….

Anthony: I adore you, Jules.

Me: Nearly.

Anthony: I worship the ground you walk on, Jules.

Me: Overkill.

Anthony: I love you, Jules.

Me: I love you too, Ants.

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Sep 21

Regaining equilibrium: Imagined conversation 71

by jmgoyder

Anthony: Long time, Jules.

Me: I have been keeping our conversations more silent lately.

Anthony: I know, and even those will become less as time goes by.

Me: The strange thing about the pain of grief is that it feels a lot like excitement; it is almost exactly the same sensation, like a slight punch to the stomach that sort of fizzes up into the chest – a small explosion, short-lived.

Anthony: When does it happen?

Me: Well, yesterday I was having coffee with my mother at a chocolate shop and I had the fleeting, split-second thought that I would buy you a box of the new rose-coloured chocolates.

Anthony: Bittersweet?

Me: Yes, both the chocolate and then the inevitable moment that I remembered you were dead.

Anthony: You sound more at peace; that is what I have been praying for.

Me: Since when do you pray?

Anthony: Well it comes with the territory here, Jules.

Me: Oh. Well your prayers are working. I am much more hopeful now.

Anthony: Of what?

Me: Of nothing really – just hopeful.

Screenshot (390)

Illustration courtesy of Colleen at https://bikecolleenbrown.wordpress.com/

(Colleen is the friend who is collaborating with me on the book about grief).

 

 

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Aug 24

Imagined conversation 68

by jmgoyder

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!

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Anthony: Good night, Jules.

Me: Good night, Ants.

 

 

 

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Aug 23

Your death day, August 23rd: Imagined conversation 67

by jmgoyder

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.IMG_0010

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Aug 20

I want you back: Imagined conversation 65

by jmgoyder

Me: I want to keep on talking with you during this week that I have dreaded since August began. Blogging our conversations is, I realise, a weird way of being publicly private and/or privately public and I am well aware of the paradox here but….

Anthony: You really do like to complicate things, Jules.

Me: No way! I would love to be able to simplify/compartmentalise/figure out the wild animal of this grief but I just cannot seem to get a handle on it.

Anthony: You know, when we first met and you were wearing a pink t-shirt, a long Indian skirt, sandals, and your amazing smile, something clicked but I didn’t know what it was.

Me: For me it was a textbook case of love at first sight. It didn’t matter that I thought you were the cowhand and didn’t realise for a few days that you were the actual patriarch so to speak. I was absolutely smitten and it was probably obvious – how embarrassing!

Anthony: I felt it too, Jules, but you were just a kid!

Me: You know that year before we got married where you got all lovey-dovey and admitted that you fell in love with me too way back when?

Anthony: Yes?

Me: Thanks for finally telling me that, because the unrequited thing was horrible. I guess you had already established a reputation for being the long-standing bachelor of our town and I think you rather liked this?

Anthony: Oh yeah, baby!

Me: We really do have a rather beautiful love story, don’t we.

Anthony: I haven’t even found anything comparable in Heaven.

Me: I yearn for you, Ants – it is like this long piece of string that I have to pull out of my throat every day. I know that sounds gross but that is exactly what it feels like to have lost you.

Anthony: Oh, Jules.

Me: I want you back, Ants.

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Aug 20

A visit to my psychologist: Imagined conversation 64

by jmgoyder

Anthony: Two conversations in one day. I am honoured!

Me: I went to see my psychologist, Daniella, today.

Anthony: Why do you need to see a psychologist?

Me: Let me think … well it just might be that the anniversary of your death is looming and glooming me – duhhh.

Anthony: Oh, that.

Me: I even cried a bit at the start of the session. I try not to do this usually but when she asked what was wrong I just said August, and then she realised. She was just as amazed as I am that it is nearly a year since you died.

Anthony: Daniella seems a benevolent soul.

Me: Bloody hell – I have never heard you say anything like that before!

Anthony: After death comes wisdom.

Me: Really?

Anthony: You will find a reference to this in the Song of Solomon.

Me: Okay, I get it now. You are trying to make me laugh. Bravo – you have succeeded!

Anthony: So what did Daniella say?

Me: To give myself a break, to stop berating myself for this and that, to breathe. She even indicated that my vibes were making her breathless. I told her that I had this constant mantra in my head of get over it, get over it, GET OVER IT, JULIE, since August 1st.

Anthony: And?

Me: Well then I blabbed on about how grateful I was for our rather unique relationship, our against-multiple-odds love story, Boney M, and my recurrent dream in which I take you from the nursing home to a party, forget your meds and you miraculously stand up out of the wheelchair and begin dancing.

Anthony: That dream has actually come true, Jules.

Me: Yes, that is what Daniella said! Do you still do your jumping up and down on-the-spot dance moves? You do realise, I hope, that the cracks in the wall of the living room are probably due to that dancing phase of yours.

Anthony: Sorry.

Me: I so wish Ming had known you back then and I told Daniella that too. I think that makes me sadder than anything else in the wake of your death; your beautiful son, who is so much like you in so many ways, never knew the ultra-lively man I fell for.

Anthony: Why have you put such a dreadful photo of me here?

Me: Because it was just before the nursing home days and Peter visited you once a week after that – one of your many wonderful nephews. His visits were like gold – remember?

Anthony: Yes.

Me: So Daniella suggested focussing on all of the good stuff, the funny stories, the great memories; she even suggested turning some of the sad bits of our story into something comical. Ingenious!

 

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Aug 20

You used to be tall: Imagined conversation 63

by jmgoyder

Me: Ming mentioned the other day that you were short and I was surprised because, when we first met, you were tall – well tall-ish.

Anthony: I was magnificent.

Me: Yes, I think you’ve already said that a few times. Anyway, I found this old photo of you from when you weren’t bent over, and I love it! I think it was before my time but I am not sure.

Anthony: It was well before your time, Jules.

Me: The side-burns are a bit off-putting.

Anthony: I have been thinking about growing them back.

Me: Nah.

Anthony at Ulupna

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Aug 19

Having a laugh in the midst of grief: Imagined conversation 62

by jmgoyder

Anthony: I really liked what you wrote yesterday.

Me: Why, thank you, kind sir!

Anthony: The Boney M clip was wonderful.

Me: I knew you would appreciate that. I wish now that I had thought to play it to you in the nursing home. Oh well – the benefit of hindsight and all that.

Anthony: Yes, I did get a little tired of The Office, especially the American version.

Me: I know. Sorry about that but I loved it and it was a brilliant way of passing the hours in the nursing home. I would give anything now to be sitting next to you, holding your hand while you dozed, or stared, mystified, at a millionth episode of The Office, eating olives and sipping wine on a sunny Sunday like today. Or else, chatting with my mother as she did her hairpin lace, both of us on either side of you, our chatter inevitably putting you to sleep.

Anthony: She really did love me, that mother of yours, even though I broke your heart when you were still just a kid of 18. And then broke it again.

Me: Again?

Anthony: By dying.

Me: Oh, I see what you mean. Yes, she really did love you. To begin with, no. I am quite sure both of my parents were appalled that their innocent, teenage daughter had fallen for a middle-aged man who was at the opposite end of the spectrum of their belief system, Christianity. If I recall correctly, you were a self-declared atheist and, as a rather evangelical adolescent, I convinced you that an agnostic stance might be safer. We did have some rather heated theological discussions.

Anthony: Yes, I slipped into Heaven via the back door.

Me: What?

Anthony: Just kidding, Jules!

Me: One of things that most fascinates me about grief is the fact that it is, actually, really fascinating. I can watch that Boney M clip and cry and laugh in the same moment; I can remember the first moment I saw you and the last moment I saw you as if 40 years of knowing each other is a single, resonating clash of unexpected harmony. Now that you have been dead for nearly a year, I love you just as much as I did when you were still alive.

Anthony: I have never quite understood how your mind works, Jules, but if it is of any comfort, I miss you too.

Me: In just a few days it will be the first anniversary of your death which is so weird because it feels like it was just the other day. I am not quite sure what I am supposed to do on this day. Do I go somewhere – away? Ming has asked me the same question – should we go out for breakfast? What do you do on a deathday? August itself has paralysed me somewhat, Ants, which I did NOT anticipate. I feel like I am at some sort of event where you have to choose between various PTSD showbags!

Anthony: I will be having a similar day, Jules. I think it would be a good idea to simply have a nap.

Me: Okay. I just want to get to September and out of August.

Anthony: Perfectly understandable, Jules; after all, I was your knight in shining armour.

Me: You were also a horribly cruel, heart-breaking bastard! Remember our first argument, underneath the clothesline just after my dad died, and I called you a selfish pig?

Anthony: Shhhh! I am in Heaven now and I do not want to jeopardise that.

Me: I am so glad that we figured out it was a family farm, financial situation and not personal. 57-year-old bachelors do not usually get married. I think the expectation was for you to leave your inheritance to either your siblings or nieces and nephews.

Anthony: Why are you bringing this up now?

Me: Because I am not afraid any more of the backlash after we announced our engagement. I was so naïve then! You were so wonderfully brave (although I did wonder why we were taking a case of champagne to accompany our engagement announcement). This is hilarious in retrospect!

Anthony: Bravo, Jules!

Me: When I look back at that scene, champagne flowing, beaming expressions on every single face, I am amazed at what happened next.

Anthony: And…?

Me: Well, the funny/paradoxical thing is I actually do not care anymore about the person who hurt you most and I wish I had developed this ability to be indifferent earlier in my life.

Anthony: Make peace, not war.

Me: I thought the saying was more like, make love, not war, via John Lennon? Your roomie?

Anthony: There is no need to stoke old coals, Jules.

Me: Why do you not want me to tell the truth, Ants?

Anthony: Because I am already dead anyway. It does not matter!

Me: Okay….

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Anthony: Have a laugh, Jules!

Me: Good idea!

 

 

 

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