jmgoyder

wings and things

Imagined conversation 60

Anthony: I thought we weren’t going to have these talks any more.

Me: You sound hurt.

Anthony: Not hurt exactly, more nonplussed.

Me: It is all the details of death that prevent any finality and, yeah, that dreadful word, closure.

Anthony: Like what?

Me: Like the stupid Probate thing – registering – via our lawyer, your Will to the Supreme Court – to prove that I am your beneficiary, executor, wife etc.

Anthony: So how are your inherited paddocks?

Me: Oh, swimmingly, Ants – the rain has been relentless! Anyway, I need some photo ID of you for this probate process and all I can find is a very scary portrait of you on an out-dated passport.

Anthony: Why is it scary?

Me: You look like a thug!

Anthony: So what happens next?

Me: Apparently, once we get past this probate thing, I will become officially entitled to everything – the house, land, your shares, your holiday house in Bermuda – everything!

Anthony: I thought you thought sarcasm was the lowest form of wit, Jules.

Me: And I thought death was simple, Ants. How could I have possibly anticipated the amount of red tape that would surround your death, or the length of time if would take for this probate thing?

Anthony: I am so sorry, Jules!

Me: Why? Not your fault but I tell you what, Ants, I am getting things clearly written and legal-easy for Ming in case I die sooner rather than later. You never know.

Anthony: You never know what is around the corner.

Me: You used to say that to me all the time in a funny way!

Anthony: Jules?

Me: Yes, oh wise one?

Anthony: Tell Ming that it is all going to be splendid.

Me: Okay. I will. And if it is all right with you, I would like to continue these conversations every now and then, for awhile.

Anthony: Good idea and I am relieved..

Me: Me too, Ants. I love you so much!

Anthony: And the whole of Heaven heaves for you too, Jules.

Me: Bleah!

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Photo taken before Ants got really sick – maybe 2007?

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Thank you, Mother, for this wonderful poem

THE GIFT OF GRIEF.
She scoops it up
Cupped in her hands
And lifted high
Like incense.
It spirals gently up and up.
Her nostrils flare
The smell of driftwood.
Held heavy in her palms
But light as air.
His face appears
And disappears
Like fire flame images
To warm her heart.
He’s here
And There
Forever.
This is Gift.

With love from Mother in August 2018.

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Imagined conversation 59

Me: Sorry I called you an old man the other day, Ants.

Anthony: Perfectly understandable, Jules.

Me: Bev is back!

Anthony: You have it the wrong way around, Jules. Bev never disappeared; you did.

Me: Did I?

Anthony: It is my fault. You abandoned friendships, and even Ming, in lieu of caring for me.

Me: Did I?

Anthony: You are still doing it Jules. Ask Ming.

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Imagined conversation 55

Me: This is my fifth attempt to write the same thing. I just cannot seem to capture the flavour of your voice properly, Ants.

Anthony: Does it matter? Which voice?

Me: Well that is probably what the problem is. There is your long ago booming, laughing voice, then there is your more recent quiet, stumbling voice, and now there is your imagined heavenly voice.

Anthony: Does it matter? I rather like the heavenly voice.

Me: It matters to me that I get it right, Ants! I want these conversations to mean something.

Anthony: You worry too much, Jules.

Me: I know, but the other thing is that I have run out of photos of you so I have to use the same ones again and again and sometimes I forget that I have already posted that photo or this photo….

Anthony: None of this matters, Jules (although I do prefer the more flattering photos of me).

Me: I love you so much, Ants.

Anthony: Good, Jules.

Me: You are supposed to say it back!

Anthony: I LOVE YOU, JULES!

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Imagined conversation 50

Anthony: How’s Ming?

Me: Yes, Ming, it’s always Ming. What about me? When you were still alive the first thing you would always say to me is “How’s Ming?” instead of what you should have said….

Anthony: Hello, your royal highness; is that better?

Me: Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit.

Anthony: So is repetitiveness.

Me: Ming is fine and now recovering well from a dreadful bout of lovesickness, the details of which I will not divulge here but you know anyway.

Anthony: I only ever understood that when I thought I might lose you, Jules.

Me: Understood what?

Anthony: Lovesickness.

Me: Oh yes, that phase. I remember you crying down the phone and I thought you must have been pretending because it was so unlike your usual macho-ness. And the flowers you sent! Cheap, poignant and astonishing, almost as astonishing as your utterance of the words ‘love’ and ‘marry’ and I was just about to get on a plane to the other side of Australia to see a man who adored me.

Anthony: Those flowers weren’t cheap, Jules.

Me: It was too late, Ants.

Anthony: I was going to lose you, Jules.

Me: I lied to you and said I was just visiting a friend up north.

Anthony: I suspected and rang the travel agent and he broke protocol by telling me you were going to Sydney.

Me: Yeah, to meet a man who adored me instantly. I had finally given up on you. It wasn’t a game, or a dare, or an ultimatum; I really had decided that this confirmed bachelor, best friend, workaholic dairy farmer wasn’t suitable.

Anthony: I’m so sorry, Jules.

Me: Yeah, that’s what you kept saying on the phone to me the night before my flight; you used every lovesick cliché I’d ever heard. I took notes because I couldn’t believe what I was hearing and I wrote them on a big pad during my plane flight because I knew, if I didn’t write your words down, I would never believe you had said them.

Anthony: I suddenly realised I might lose you.

Me: Better late than never I suppose but you have no idea how ghastly it was to be chased around a penthouse for days on end by a man who had paid for my trip and expected some sort of recompense. Even when I read him bits from my notes of what you had said to me in that phone-call, through the locked bathroom door, he persisted.

Anthony: Why did you go?

Me: It was all booked and paid for and I felt obligated. How was I supposed to know you would have this almost-too-late epiphany about me?

Anthony: I feel like such an idiot now.

Me: Good.

Anthony: I thought forgiveness was important to you.

Me: It is, but a little bit of guilt doesn’t do anyone any harm.

Anthony: Jules?

Me: What?

Anthony: How’s Ming?

Me: Much better.

Anthony: That’s all I wanted to know.

Me: What about me?

Anthony: You are ferociously fine, Jules.

Me: And the best thing about this post?

Anthony: You are laughing?

Me: Yes!

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Imagined conversation 49

Anthony: “How’s my boy?”

Me: He likes to talk things through.

Anthony: Sounds like someone else I know.

Me: I told him once that I wished he were more like you than me.

Anthony: How so?

Me: Less intense, more lackadaisical.

Anthony: But he’s a larrikin after my own heart.

Me: More like a larrikin with a complicated heart. Anyway guess what he said?

Anthony: Was it as profound as my many utterances?

Me: Definitely. He said, “Mum, I adore everything about me that is like you.”

Anthony: Not bad, but what about my genes?

Me: I have encouraged him to cultivate those but he obviously likes being intensely, philosophically, introspectively himself.

Anthony: But what about…?

Me: Don’t worry, he is also extremely loud, boisterous, fun-loving, easy-going and straight-from-the-shoulder honest.

Anthony: I keep thinking he is still a little boy.

Me: You used to see hallucinations of him as a little boy in your nursing home room all the time so, when this great big hulk of a man visited, you couldn’t quite compute that it was Ming.

Anthony: I was in awe.

Me: I’ll tell him that.

Anthony: Tell him I love him from beyond the grave and that I now have super powers.

Me: Ants, he’s not 10!

Anthony: Jules, I was just trying to make you laugh!

Me: Oh, sorry, yes and you’ve just reminded me of what made our unlikely union work so well – the laughter, so much of it. I wish now that I could bundle it all up – all of that laughter – and give it away, or back to us somehow, like a gift.

Anthony: You can, Jules. You can do anything you want to do with intangibles – emotions, thoughts, words, memories, hopes, dreams, even sorrows….

Me: Are you talking about quantum physics here, Ants? I hope not, because I am in Ming’s psychology course mode at the moment.

Anthony: And…?

Me: Well he has this rather new idea that kindness is better than knowledge when it relates to power.

Anthony: Would you like me to ask God? (There are a few of them here.)

Me: That would be great – thanks, Ants!

Anthony: About Ming.

Me: Yes?

Anthony: He will figure everything out himself so there is no need for us to worry about him. Ever.

 

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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 46

Anthony: Now what?

Me: Haha – I knew you’d say that. Don’t tell me, let me guess – you are playing chess with Elvis.

Anthony: Just a minute, it’s my move … okay, what’s up?

Me: What did you mean, yesterday, when you said there was no hurry?

Anthony: Generally speaking, Jules, you tend to be in a hurry to get nowhere.

Me: What do you mean?

Anthony: I know about google now, Jules.

Me: So?

Anthony: I noticed that you looked for “ways to fast-track grief”.

Me: Oh, how embarrassing. Sorry, Ants – it was nothing against you. I was just trying to figure out how to feel better faster. I am so sick of the sadness. I am so sick of my sad self!

Anthony: You know how you used to put that funeral photo of me in your back pocket?

Me: Yes? I haven’t done that for ages.

Anthony: That’s what you do with the grief, Jules – you put it in your back pocket, all cosy and warm against your bum – then you live.

Me: I keep seeing you everywhere – not like a ghost or anything, just people who remind me of you.

Anthony: Elvis gets that too.

Me: Yeah, I know – someone just saw him in Passadena, apparently. Are you really playing chess with him or are you just kidding? I never know with you.

Anthony: Struth!

Me: I want you back, Ants.

Anthony: I want you back too, Jules.

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Imagined conversation 45

Me: If you’d been a friend of yours, would you have visited yourself in the nursing home?

Anthony: No. I wouldn’t have bothered. I would have thought, poor old bloke doesn’t know what day it is.

Me: Okay so what if it had been me in the nursing home and our situations were somehow reversed?

Anthony: Ah, now that’s a tricky one. I probably would have visited once or twice then mostly avoided it. I know you hate this cliché, Jules, but I would have wanted to remember the way you were.

Me: Yeah that was sort of Ming’s attitude to you and certainly that of many others I guess. I think once someone is in a nursing home the generalised perception is that they are the living dead.

Anthony: Not just the nursing home, Jules – don’t forget the Dementia.

Me: I thought you thought Dementia was a taboo word in our conversations!

Anthony: Not anymore – I actually find it quite fascinating to watch all of the replays of how it affected me. You have the patience of a saint.

Me: I couldn’t have put it better myself, Ants; anyone would think I was putting the words into your mouth.

Anthony: I can think for myself, Jules. Give me a bit of credit.

Me: You seem to be twirling the subject.

Anthony: Are you talking about the subject (topic) or the subject (self)?

Me: OMG, have you actually read my PhD thesis?

Anthony: Plenty of time in Heaven, so yes.

Me: You never bothered to read it on Earth!

Anthony: Hindsight.

Me: Duh. So what! I’ve had hindsight since before I was born!

Anthony: Actually, Jules, I don’t think that’s possible but I’ll check with my new mates who, by the way, think you are wonderful. In fact, we are using some of your material for our Hindsight workbook for the more elderly dead people.

Me: Oh, okay. You guys might need to use a different phrase to ‘dead people’ – just a suggestion.

Anthony: Noted.

Me: Ants? Sorry, but you sound like a secretary – you don’t sound like you anymore.

Anthony: Which ‘me’ do you mean? The sickly, deathly, demented but extremely witty, me, or the hunk you married?

Me: I’m not sure.

Anthony: I’ve evolved.

Me: I beg your pardon?

Anthony: If our situations were reversed and you had been in a nursing home for many years, I would visit you often.

Me: How often?

Anthony: Every few days..

Me: Why?

Anthony: Because I would want you to know how much I loved you.

Me: Sometimes I feel a physical tug of yearning to visit your nursing home, even though you aren’t there anymore. During a couple of my motorbike lessons, the instructor and I went past the nursing home and I almost lost my breath.

Anthony: Julie.

Me: What do you mean, ‘Julie’? You never call me that.

Anthony: I am trying to get your attention, Jules!

Me: That’s more like it.

Anthony: There is something that I want to say to you that you really need to hear.

Me: That sounds a bit ominous.

Anthony: THERE IS NO HURRY.

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Imagined conversation 44

Me: Life is so complicated, isn’t it.

Anthony: Spot on, Jules, you got that right.

Me: And people are so complicated, aren’t they.

Anthony: Yes, they are, Jules.

Me: I have just realised why our conversations with each other, over all of the years we have known each other, have been so easy.

Anthony: And your conclusion?

Me: Well you do this very clever [devious] thing where you affirm me even when you disagree with me.

Anthony: I can read bracketed information, Jules.

Me: Whoops, I forgot about all of your omnis.

Anthony: Having an argument with you, Jules, was like being in a hurricane.

Me: Sorry, Ants. At least we didn’t do it often.

Anthony: But you were right. Always.

Me: I know, Ants, but I didn’t know you knew that!

Anthony: I wasn’t allowed in through the Heavenly gates until I did the Hindsight test.

Me: OMG that sounds horrible.

Anthony: The facilitators were very understanding.

Me: What did they say? I’m curious.

Anthony: They told me that I had nearly left it too late to propose marriage to you.

Me: Really? What else did they say?

Anthony: That I’d been an idiot not to have proposed earlier….

Me: And?

Anthony: Everything about everything about the 40 years I have known you, Jules, is the way it was always supposed to be.

Me: No, I don’t believe in that fate stuff, Ants – I much prefer the idea of contingency. Anyway, forget all that philosophical stuff. Where are you?

Anthony: I’m in Heaven.

Me: But where is that?

Anthony: I don’t know but wherever it is, it’s great.

Me: These imagined conversations with you are so weird. I recognise that what I am doing is a sort of therapeutic writing exercise but, at the same time, it feels organic and I only chat with you like this when I feel like it.

Anthony: Jules, STOP worrying about what people might think.

Me: Okay.

Anthony: And let’s keep talking like this, as much or as little as you want. I am very happily dead now, Jules, so concentrate your fantastic love on the Ming.

Me: Okay.

Anthony: Just a second: Plato and Soc. are both telling me different things about you.

Me: Is Foucault there too?

Anthony: Sorry, Jules – they’re all in the middle of a game of chess, but Plato just mentioned something about love being a kind of madness that is heavenly. Does that make sense?

Me: I know the quote, Ants! “The madness of love is the greatest of heaven’s blessings” Plato. Did he really say this?

Anthony: He is nodding yes.

Me: This is like some sort of kindergarten ‘let’s pretend’ game, Ants, but it is so much fun! I love and miss you with all of my poor, exhausted, grief-stricken heart.

Anthony: Get a life, Jules.

Me: What?

Anthony: I’m dead. Accept it. Move on.

Me: I can’t believe that you have just said what all of those horrible, wonderful idiots say: move on.

Anthony: They’re not idiots, Jules.23602295_1267621250049965_1843189380_n

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