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 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: 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!
Photo taken before Ants got really sick – maybe 2007?
Me: I haven’t wanted to talk to you lately.
Anthony: I noticed.
Me: Ever since talking to the headstone people I just kind of wanted to run away from the situation.
Anthony: What situation?
Me: Your death.
Anthony: Oh, that – yes.
Me: I’ve gone past the nursing home a few times now, on my motorbike lessons, and it always gives me a bit of a jolt. I saw a photo of you and C. at the nursing home and it shocked me to know that was only months before you died. I keep wanting to see you; it’s horrible, like a yawn of yearning. I’m not trying to be poetic either – it feels like the middle of me is doing this yawwwwwwn thing all the time.
Anthony: Am I boring you?
Me: Very funny, not. Not that kind of yawn – the kind where you need more oxygen. Isn’t that what a yawn is?
Anthony: [Silence]
Me: And then a gaspy thing happens and I can breathe again and then, finally, I can cry.
Anthony: Why do you want to cry?
Me: I don’t want to cry really but sometimes when I nearly cry and the tears don’t come I feel like forcing it.
Anthony: I’m listening.
Me: Other times one of your favourite songs comes on the car radio and crying just happens. It happened earlier today.
Anthony: I’m sorry I left you in the lurch, Jules.
Me: Sometimes I wish I hadn’t loved you so much. I let you mean too much, Ants – you had become my whole world. Maybe that wasn’t healthy, maybe that’s why I feel so lost now without you.
Anthony: Jules, do you realise what rubbish you are talking? Look at all of the things you are accomplishing now – the motorbike licence, the kayak lessons, the film script idea, helping Ming with his psychology diploma, the volunteering. You are not lost without me.
Me: I feel physically sick, like I am going to vomit, a lot of the time.
Anthony: But you’re free now, Jules. You should make the most of it.
Me: How? Anyway, I never wanted to be free of you!
Anthony: Never?
Me: Not once and I’m pretty sure I’m being honest here.
Anthony: I ended up needing you too much didn’t I.
Me: Sort of. Yeah, okay, I didn’t like that feeling of being so needed I guess.
Anthony: You just need to get your strength back, Jules. Do some aerobic exercise. It does wonders for the body and soul.
Me: WHAAT?
Anthony: Swimming, cycling – keep it up, Jules. Don’t give up – oh and the meditation is also useful.
Me: [Silence]
Anthony: I’ve shocked you, haven’t I.
Me: Yes! Are you being tongue-in-cheek or genuine? Meditation? I can’t believe that word actually came out of your cynical mouth.
Anthony: OM
Me: OM?
Anthony: Feeling better yet?
Me: Actually, yes.
Anthony: All right, so, whenever you don’t feel like talking to me, just OM me and I’ll OM you back.
Me: OM?
Anthony: OMMMMMMMMMM
Me: [Laughing]
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.
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)
Me: You know these conversations that we’re having?
Anthony: Yes, I do.
Me: They’re rather wonderful aren’t they.
Anthony: They certainly help to pass the time of day.
Me: Master of the understatement aren’t you.
Anthony: I try.
Me: What I like best is that you don’t have dementia anymore.
Anthony: What are you talking about? I never had dementia.
Me: Well, okay, you must have forgotten.
Anthony: You talk a lot of rubbish sometimes.
Me: That’s what I used to say to you – kindly.
Anthony: What’s your point?
Me: It almost feels like we are time travelling backwards and a bit forwards but mostly backwards. In a good way. I’m remembering all sorts of things – conversations and your wit.
Anthony: I like to have my wits turned on.
Me: You never really lost that did you.
Anthony: I never really lost anything actually.
Me: Sometimes, when you said really crazy things, I used to think maybe you were pulling my leg.
Anthony: I was.
Me: No you weren’t.
Anthony: Have it your way.
Me: No need to get huffy.
Anthony: I’m not but I don’t like you saying I had dementia. Horrible word.
Me: But you did have it. I just never told you.
Anthony: Well maybe a little bit.
Me: No, a lot.
Anthony: Bull.
Me: I thought heavenly creatures like you basked in the truth.
Anthony: I’d rather do a dare.
Me: Okay, I dare you to acknowledge that you had dementia.
Anthony: Entrapped. Okay, okay, you got me.
Me: I thought it was fantastic that you didn’t know.
Anthony: A blessing in disguise?
Me: Exactly.
Anthony: It must have been hard on you.
Me: I guess so, to begin with, but I got used to it. I got used to you with dementia. It didn’t scare me at all but it probably would have scared you if you knew.
Anthony: It was bloody beautiful of you not to tell me.
Me: Remember how you would get confused and I would reassure you that it was just the Parkinson’s disease?
Anthony: Yes.
Me: Well that was instead of telling you it was dementia.
Anthony: I heard you tell someone the other day that we made friends with dementia. Clever.
Me: That’s what it felt like. It was sort of whimsical and we even had fun with it.
Anthony: With what?
Me: With the dementia. In retrospect.
Anthony: If you say so.
Me: Come on. Admit it.
Anthony: Okay. Yes, you’re right. I’m so sorry, Jules. It must have been ghastly.
Me: No, it wasn’t. It was still you.
Anthony: It’s good what we have isn’t it.
Me: It’s the best thing on earth.
Anthony: And in heaven.
Me: Bloody hell! Okay, Amen.
Anthony: Amen.
Anthony: That was very funny.
Me: What was very funny?
Anthony: Your kayaking lesson today, with Ming.
Me: OMG were you watching? How embarrassing.
Anthony: Quite.
Me: The capsize?
Anthony: Is that what you call it?
Me: Yes, well another fear faced and conquered.
Anthony: You made it look so easy, Jules.
Me: Sarcasm just slides off your tongue doesn’t it, Ants.
Anthony: I’ve been busy perfecting the art.
Me: Did you see Ming do it too?
Anthony: His movements were much more fluid.
Me: But did you see when he accidentally fell in for the second time?
Anthony: Yes but I was mainly concentrating on your laughter.
Me: Oh?
Anthony: That was a beautiful thing to see – spectacular.
Me: Well, thanks, I think.
Anthony: It’s a long time since I’ve heard that guffaw of yours – so raucous.
Me: Is that a good or a bad thing?
Anthony: It’s a great thing. You should do it more often.
Me: I can’t just conjure it up.
Ants: Yes you can. Remember the time you tried to get me to do aerobics with you to that Jane Fonda video?
Me (smiling): Oh yeah, you were so awkward.
Anthony: You thought it might stop the Parkinson’s in its tracks.
Me: Stupid idea and it didn’t work. Hey, but remember that time I fell in the duck pond? That’s what it felt like today.
Anthony: How could I forget?
Me: You were so unsympathetic.
Anthony: The look of shock on your face … priceless.
Me: The good old days.
Anthony: The good-to-remember old days.
Me: I’m going for my motor-bike licence next week.
Anthony: I know and I am trembling at the thought.
Me: You’re trembling! What do you think I’m doing?
Anthony: Quaking?
Me: Not sure why I took on these two new challenges simultaneously. I must be mad!
Anthony: My thoughts exactly, and Ming’s too I’ve noticed. And both of your instructors’.
Me: Common sense isn’t my forte.
Anthony: Neither is coordination. I heard what Ming said while you were driving to the river, by the way.
Me: He didn’t mean it, Ants. And, by the way, my coordination is improving!
Anthony: Yes he did and he’s right. I wasn’t exactly father of the century. I should have talked to him more, or listened.
Me: He just wishes he knew you when you were well. Some of the stories I tell about you, from before his time, he finds almost unbelievable.
Anthony: I liked what he said about me still being around through him.
Me: Yeah, it’s pretty disconcerting – his voice, mannerisms, gait, laugh; he’s like a clone of you!
Anthony: Is that a good or a bad thing?
Me: It’s a great thing! I just wish he remembered how you were before you got so ill.
Anthony: There are worse things. Anyway you’re doing a great job of giving him amazing memories for when you die.
Me: What? Don’t be so morbid!
Anthony: Like the vision of you capsizing in your kayak today. Unforgettable.
Me: Shut up.
Anthony: Just a thought.
Me: Argh!
jmgoyder 