Sunday
I am finally writing your book, Ants!
Anthony, me and Ming
After Anthony died (nearly four years ago!) I continued to blog and I am quite proud of the “Imagined Conversations” posts which I had intended to put together into book form.
Maybe that will still happen, maybe I will write again and even collaborate with others as planned but it is hard to get excited about death, grief, loss because these feelings have connected me with so many others who have experienced similar stuff. Empathy is great but it is also extremely debilitating.
I wanted so much to continue blogging about Anthony, Ming and me but I couldn’t sustain it; I couldn’t be bothered trying to be clever, articulate, witty or wise when I was just too bloody sad about being sad.
Now that I have gotten past the drama of selling and moving from the farm to the little cottage I now live in, I am so happy, so content, and so feeling a sense of Anthony’s approval and presence here. And with Ming and his beautiful partner living just around the corner, I know I am blessed.
I thank all of the blog friends who supported and encouraged me throughout Anthony’s illnesses and Ming’s catapults and my dark days.
Julie
After Anthony 1
This is my first post for so long but I really want to begin blogging again. So much has happened since I last posted. Everything is fine. Having sold the farm, I now live in a lovely cottage which overlooks a little bit of forest. It has been a massive adjustment and the act/work of moving from the farm was pretty ghastly and longwinded.
But sooo much joy!
New chapter
Well, I have sold the farm to my lovely neighbours and will be moving to a little cottage in an adjacent town soon. It won’t be for another month or so but at least it is finally happening. The emotional difficulty of this decision (for both Ming and me) has long passed, as we have both realised the need to be pragmatic. The house is ancient and needs renovating, and dealing with 5 acres of lawns is ridiculous as I am not the least bit interested in gardening, although I did try (briefly).
I feel somewhat guilty for not responding to the blog posts I receive every day on my email, but I have been a bit preoccupied with the above. I think, once I am resettled, I will get back to blogging but I am not sure yet.
It is now over two years since my beautiful husband, Anthony, died and the grief is still fresh. I am trying to not let this grief get the better of me – and succeeding I think. I loved/love him so much.
“Mingisms”
Ming is a master of the inappropriate comment or, sometimes, behaviour. For example, his Christmas morning ritual used to be running around the house naked, laughing his head off. Anthony and I had to turn a bit of a blind eye.
Anyway, today, I was waiting at Centrelink to re-establish that not only did I exist but that I had been volunteering for years (somehow these details had been lost). I was sitting next to a couple who I knew vaguely from volunteering and we were catching up when Ming rang to say he and Amanda were lunching soon at a nearby café so I said I would join them if I got out of Centrelink sooner than later.
All of a sudden Ming appeared at Centrelink, saw me and came over immediately to introduce himself to the couple I was sitting next to. He shook their hands, exchanged names and then he said he couldn’t stay and, in his usual loud voice, announced “I am that woman’s spawn!”
Then he left and I had to explain to the couple I was sitting next to that he had an unusual vocabulary.
Oh, the laughter was beautiful!
A note to our son, Ming, on the second anniversary of Anthony’s death
Thanks Ming (Menzies Goyder) for always reminding me of your dad, Anthony. You have the same larger-than-life presence, the same laugh, the same booming voice, the same gregariousness. The other day, when you sat in your car for ages before coming in, it reminded me of how Ants used to do the same thing and it used to drive me mad! Your love of loud music, dancing, your easy-going nature, and your love of me … the saddest thing for me is that you never really knew Anthony the way he was because he began to get so sick when you were just a baby – one disease after another. In a few hours it will be the second anniversary of his death. Thank you for being with me that night and thank you for your support ever since. I am choosing to spend today alone because the memory of that night, when Ants pushed my hand out of his and we went outside and then, five minutes later, he died, still haunts me. You have been my rock (well, mostly!) and not only do I love you for being you, but I also love you for being so much like Anthony. Best son anyone could wish for. And you gave him such joy!
August preparations: Imagined conversation 82
Me: Hi Ants.
Anthony: That wasn’t a very enthusiastic ‘hi’, Jules.
Me: I am selling the farm and I am worried that this will hurt you.
Anthony: I’m already dead so nothing can hurt me.
Me: You’re not here, Ming’s moved out, the maintenance is getting ridiculous, and I guess the bottom line is I have fallen out of love with this beautiful place and its quaint old, ailing house.
Anthony: Jules, you do whatever you want and trust your instincts. I left the farm to you so it is your decision.
Me: Thanks Ants. I miss you so much….
Anthony: I will applaud you, whatever you decide, Jules.
Exciting news!
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!
Imagined conversation 81
Me: Well, here we are, Ants. This is the last of our public conversations.
Anthony: Has it helped?
Me: Yes, it has helped me to talk to you better in my head; it has helped me to see how grief can be a gift (my mother said that); and it has helped me to be grateful for what we had rather than dwelling on what we lost when you died.
Anthony: You are a champion, Jules.
Me: Yes, I know.
Anthony: So what are you going to do now?
Me: I am going to put our 81 imagined conversations into book form and look for a publisher, Ants. It makes sense to stop at 81 because you will never be 82.
Anthony: So morbid!
Me: Not at all!
Anthony: You were the best thing, most joyful and interesting person, to ever come into my life, Jules.
Me: And you were/are the absolute love of my life, Ants. And then there was the gift of Ming!
Anthony: How is that young chap – my son?
Me: Our son!
Anthony: Our son! Okay!
Me: He is a weird hybrid of you and me – fascinating!
Anthony: Apart from you, Jules, that boy/man was the best thing that ever happened for me and I am so proud of him.
Me: Me too, Ants.
Note: Unblogging for the time being … thanks to my friends/bloggers for your grace x
jmgoyder 