jmgoyder

wings and things

Imagined conversation 51

Me: We have never discussed headstones, funerals, cremation versus burial, or your death, have we?

Anthony: Not that I recollect – no.

Me: So what is your opinion, now that you are actually dead?

Anthony: About what?

Me: About headstones.

Anthony: How much?

Me: Upwards from $2,000.

Anthony: Daylight robbery, Jules! But why are you so upset?

Me: I’m not sure – probably a mix of peer pressure, friendly advice, rumoured disapproval, and grief.

Anthony: Jules.

Me: Ants.

Anthony: My beautiful girl.

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Imagined conversation 47

Me: Sometimes I am so full of emotion that I don’t know what the emotion is; I don’t know if it’s sorrow or joy.

Anthony: What’s brought this on?

Me: Tonight, having tea at my mother’s place, sitting between my two brothers and, earlier in the evening, playing with my little niece and nephew.

Anthony: Don’t you mean your great niece and nephew?

Me: Well, yes, technically, but I prefer to call them niece and nephew. It makes me feel less ancient, ha! Do you have to be pedantic? I’m not in the mood.

Anthony: Why are you so out of sorts, Jules?

Me: I guess I feel that my blog entries are sometimes too sad and I don’t want that. I certainly don’t want other people to be made sad by what I write and I definitely don’t want anyone to be sad for me; it’s a conundrum.

Anthony: I wish I could help.

Me: You do help – you do, Ants. Talking to you like this – these imagined conversations, this imagined you … your voice is so real.

Anthony: Your mother, your brothers and your whole family love you so much, Jules. I have never seen anything like it. Of course they worry, especially your mother and she has an uncanny intuition, I’ve noticed.

Me: But I don’t want her to worry about me; I don’t want anyone to worry about me! I’m fine!

Anthony: Months ago, Jules, you wrote about being able to be intensely happy and intensely sad in the same moment – something like that. It was profound, it was wise, and it was original. Is that what is happening now?

Me: Yes, that was an amazing realisation at the time but things change and now it’s winter.

Anthony: I thought you liked winter.

Me: This one seems to be particularly cold; it’s the first winter since you died.

Anthony: Ah, that explains a lot. You are probably experiencing an early equinox.

Me: What the hell are you talking about?

Anthony: Well it sounded good, didn’t it?

Me: Have you made friends with all of the dead scientists now too?

Anthony: You know me, Jules, I’ll talk to anyone.

Me: Argh – remember that woman in the wheelchair on our honeymoon that you tried to start a conversation with and she swivelled away and I couldn’t stop laughing at your dejection?

Anthony: Her carer deserves a medal.

Me: Oh yes! You mean the one pushing the wheelchair? She looked so miserable.

Anthony: She’s here now – the old lady.

Me: Why are you whispering?

Anthony: Because she’s just around the corner in the Horrible Suite and I’m on call.

Me: For what?

Anthony: My job is to charm her somehow. Any ideas?

Me: Okay, perhaps be a bit less pushy and loud? You and Ming don’t have much subtlety, do you.

Anthony: That’s my boy.

Me: It’s so interesting to me because I never knew you when you were the age Ming is now but he is obviously a clone of you?

Anthony: He has a lot more freedom.

Me: How’s that?

Anthony: He’s not milking the cows day in, day out, endlessly.

Me: But I thought you loved milking the cows!

Anthony: Have I cheered you up?

Me: I think so. I’m starting to remember all of these wonderful things by talking to you like this.

Anthony: At your service, my beautiful, wonderful wife.

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Imagined conversation 40

Anthony: We must stop meeting like this.

Me: Oh, very funny.

Anthony: What’s up?

Me: Well, you know how I used to always remember the anniversary of my dad’s death?

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Anthony: I remember your tears, I remember you always rang your mother, and I remember you being in a filthy mood and I didn’t know what was wrong….

Me: ….and then I’d tell you and you would be so compassionate and beautiful and nonplussed.

Anthony: Why have you always remembered June 9, your father’s deathday, and not his birthday?

Me: Maybe I’m morbid. Anyway, why are you cross-examining me?

Anthony: Morbid curiosity? By the way, his birthday is in April and I know this for a fact.

Me: Okay, so what date exactly? I’m ahead of you because I just messaged my Meg.

Anthony: Just a moment, Jules. I need to talk to the man himself.

Me: This is ridiculous, Ants! How am I expected to believe that you, John Wayne, and now my dad, Brinsley Lane, are all in cahoots?

Anthony: We all like chess?

Me: Well, I know my dad liked chess but you never even touched that extremely expensive marble chess set I gave you on your birthday in….

Anthony: Jules?

Me: What now?

Anthony: Dairy farmers don’t play chess.

Me: Oh.

Anthony: Brin’s  birthday was the 10th of April. Four days ago marks the 40th anniversary of his sudden death of a heart attack at the age of 57 when he reluctantly left your mother a young widow, and you teenage kids without a dad.

Me: How is he, Ants?

Anthony: Put it this way, Jules; I thought I loved you but this guy, Brin, your dad, loves you more.

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Imagined conversation 30

Anthony: It’s understandable, Jules.

Me: I’ve been putting it off for two reasons: one is I didn’t want to do this last final thing because I wanted something to look forward to. I know that sounds bizarre but there is something quite lovely about picking out a headstone and figuring out the inscription. I didn’t want that to be over with.

Anthony: What’s the other reason?

Me: Just talking with the monument people via email was okay to begin with, then I started feeling a bit sick, you know, bargaining about the price.

Anthony: You’re right to bargain!

Me: Do you like the colour Ming and I chose?

Anthony: It’s quite striking – yes.

Me: Okay so ruby red granite it is. I’m going to the monument place on Monday. I’m a bit worried that I might get really emotional or else that I might just feel numb.

Anthony: You’ll take it all in your stride, Jules. Hold your head up and smile and pretend I’m with you.

Me: That’s a good idea.

Anthony: Once it’s done, you can bring the cross with my name on it home.

Me: Yeah, I thought the same. It’s still stuck in the mound on your grave. I had no idea it took so long for the dirt to settle.

Anthony: I didn’t know that either.

Me: I thought I’d be visiting your grave all the time but I haven’t. I mean I don’t get any sensation of you being there anyway – not really.

Anthony: I’m not there, Jules – it’s just my old bones now.

Me: I hate thinking about that!

Anthony: Well it’s true.

Me: I’ve had a few bad days of missing you, Ants. I wish I could have a hug.

Anthony: Maybe you could use that imagination of yours to be hugged by me whenever anyone else hugs you.

Me: Okay, I’ll try that. Ming’s a pretty good hugger.

Anthony: That’s my boy.

Me: I want part of the inscription to read “The most beautiful man in the world”. What do you think?

Anthony: I think you are prone to exaggeration.

Me: Ming loves the idea.

Anthony: Does he?

Me: He feels the same way.

Anthony: Now you’ve made my day!

Me: That settles that, then. I think I can face Monday now.

Anthony: You’ll be fine, Jules.

Me: Okay, I’ll take your word for it.IMG_4201

 

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Imagined conversation 29

Anthony: Can’t you sleep?

Me: No, it’s the third time in a week. I mean it’s still only midnight but the last couple of times, it was almost 4am before I felt tired enough to go to bed.

Anthony: That’s no good, Jules.

Me: I don’t really mind. It’s not anxiety or anything. I guess I’ll just watch Netflix.

Anthony: You like your thrillers don’t you.

Me: Yep.

Anthony: Well don’t stay up too late or you’ll look haggard when you get up.

Me: Haggard? What do you mean by haggard!

Anthony: I overheard you talking to your mother about how you were worried about looking so haggard after my demise.

Me: Yeah, but I was telling her that my phase of worrying about looking haggard was over and now that I don’t worry about it, I don’t seem to look haggard anymore – weird. See, here is me with A. today. I don’t look so bad after all. I don’t even mind the wrinkles now.

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Anthony: Well, the kid’s cute. He suits you. Maybe you should have another baby.

Me: Droll.

Anthony: Do you ever wish we’d had another one?

Me: Every now and then but Ming is enough.

Anthony: My thoughts exactly.

Me: He is pretty wonderful. The other day he said to me, “Hey, Mum, let’s have another look at you,” as I was heading out. So I turned back and he said, “You look great!”

Anthony: Sounds like the kind of thing I would say.

Me: He says that kind of thing every single day.

Anthony: Are you sure all this vanity is good for you?

Me: Well it beats the hell out of running, panic-stricken, away from the bathroom mirror.

Anthony: I notice you haven’t replace the fluorescent light in there.

Me: Mmmm.

Anthony: Don’t forget all the complimentary things I said to you, will you.

Me: Like….?

Anthony: I recall calling you a gorgeous creature more than once.

Me: Not sure about the creature bit.

Anthony: You know what I mean.

Me: I sometimes miss the way you lit up when I arrived at the nursing home.

Anthony: Now you’re really flattering yourself.

Me: But you did! Even the nurses said so.

Anthony: I put a lot of effort into that.

Me: What rot. You were overjoyed every time and you’d always think that it was magic, and that you’d somehow conjured me up.

Anthony: Poor old fool.

Me: No, you were a beautiful old fool.

Anthony: Thanks.

Me: You know what I mean.

Anthony: One thing though….

Me: Yes?

Anthony: You do need lipstick.

Me: OMG, the feminists will be onto you.

Anthony: But it’s true.

Me: I’ll have to ponder that.

Anthony: Do that. Pondering is something I’ve become quite good at and I think you’d like it.

Me: That’s quite profound actually, Ants.

Anthony: I ponder to please.

Me: (Smiling)

 

 

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