jmgoyder

wings and things

May 15

Imagined conversation 31

by jmgoyder

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.

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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]

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Apr 28

Imagined conversation 28

by jmgoyder

Me: You know that guy I was telling you about – the one in the nursing home who reminds me of you?

Anthony: You mean my nursing home?

Me: No, I can’t bring myself to go back there – yet. I’m talking about the nursing home where I volunteer.

Anthony: So who’s the guy?

Me: His name is K. and I thought he was around your age but one of the nurses told me he was 97!

Anthony: And he reminds you of me?

Me: Yes. It’s uncanny!

Anthony: Thanks a lot. Such a wonderful compliment – not.

Me: Well he doesn’t look a day over 81, Ants. Sorry. He’s got the same starey eyes and the same slow smile; he even seems to have a wittiness like yours. When I asked him how he was the other day, he said he was 150 years old. It was just like the kind of thing you used to say – so funny.

Anthony: Is he sexy like me?

Me: No, for God’s sake, Anthony. Don’t be so ridiculous!

Anthony: Well, I was just wondering.

Me: He’s crazy about Pip.

Anthony: That’s all right – as long as he isn’t crazy about you.

Me: I told him about you dying and he said his wife had died too and we had a bit of a sad moment.

Anthony: You do realise that I’m not 81 anymore, don’t you.

Me: How does that work?

Anthony: Not sure but I feel extraordinary well.

Me: That makes my heart get all warm and toasty. Remember how you used to say that?

Anthony: Plagiarism!

Me: The other day, P. said I should find another beau.

Anthony: What?

Me: Don’t worry, I told him that I’d had the best and there was no topping that.

Anthony: You can tell P. from me to bugger off.

Me: I’ll be more polite.

Anthony: You can quote me on that, Jules, with my blessing.

Me: Oh, so I say, “By the way, P., Anthony told me to tell you to bugger off with his blessing.”

Anthony: That sounds about right.

Me: He won’t believe that I was talking with you.

Anthony: That’s his problem. Anyway back to the old chap, K., if he’s 97 he must be pretty close to the end.

Me: Yeah, he doesn’t look so wonderful.

Anthony: Shake his hand for me.

Me: Why?

Anthony: It seems like a reasonable thing to do.

Me: Okay, I’ll do that. I think he’ll understand.

Anthony: He will. Tell him I’ll keep an eye out for him when the time comes.

Me: Wow, that’s nice of you.

Anthony: You seem to have forgotten what a splendidly marvellous person I am.

Me: I haven’t forgotten.

Anthony: That’s good then.

Me: G’night, Ants.

Anthony: G’night, Jules.

Me: I adore you.

Anthony: Perfectly understandable.

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Apr 26

Imagined conversation 27

by jmgoyder

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.

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Anthony: Amen.

 

 

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Apr 26

Imagined conversation 26

by jmgoyder

Anthony: What’s with all the new clothes?

Me: Retail therapy.

Anthony: What’s that supposed to be?

Me: Forget it. You wouldn’t understand.

Anthony: I like it. You’re looking particularly well groomed these days.

Me: Why thank you, kind sir.

Anthony: Stylish even. You’d be a knockout if you wore higher heels.

Me: Oh for God’s sake, you can forget that.

Anthony: The red boots are, well, they’re very red aren’t they.

Me: So? I bought them before you died but I never got to show you so every time I wear them I feel a bit of a pang of disappointment.

Anthony: They look good, Jules, I’m only teasing.

Me: I kind of bought them for you actually, indirectly.

Anthony: A likely story.

Me: No, really. I used to like the way you liked the way I love my boots.

Anthony: You definitely have a fetish for them.

Me: Not so much now.

Anthony: Isn’t it about time you bought some new ones?

Me: What? I can’t believe you’re encouraging me to spend money.

Anthony: You can use my money. I don’t need it any more.

Me: Wow, you’ve changed. What happened to the tightwad I married?

Anthony: He turned into a butterfly.

Me (laughing): You crack me up, Ants. Okay, well I don’t need much encouragement so what colour do you suggest?

Anthony: Purple and white polka-dots?

Me: You are insane!

Anthony: Why not?

Me: I’ll google it. Ah here we go. What do you think?

toga-pulla-micheal-crystal-boots

Anthony: Not bad. What do they cost?

Me: Let me see … $5,200.

Anthony: [Pause]

Me: Are you there?

Anthony: I’m in shock.

Me: Yes, so am I so don’t panic. I’m not that self-indulgent and I can’t imagine who is. Okay, how about these?

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Anthony: How much?

Me: Around $40. But they’re gumboots.

Anthony: They really are ‘you’ though, aren’t they.

Me: You think?

Anthony: Different.

Me: Are you sure?

Anthony: Why not?

Me: Thanks but I’m really very tempted by the first pair – the more I look at them….

Anthony: Jules, come on.

Me: You are so gullible.

Anthony: I’ve broken into a sweat.

Me: I bet!  I wish I could buy you something – anything, even a slice of black forest cake or a dozen oysters.

Anthony: Plenty of that here.

Me: Really? Oh, of course. I know, but I used to love buying you presents and treats and stuff.

Anthony: You’re too generous.

Me: It was fun.

Anthony: Tell you what, buy the gumboots for me. Indirectly.

Me: Sold!

Anthony: You’re a burster, Jules.

Me: I can’t believe purple and white polka-dot boots even exist. How could you have possibly known?

Anthony: I’ve become a fan of google too.

Me: Now I really am shocked! But you don’t even know how to turn a computer on.

Anthony: I do now. I’m one step ahead of you. Now buy the boots. Right now.

Me: Your wish is my command. Thanks, Ants – this is so enjoyable!

Anthony: It is, isn’t it.

 

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7 Comments »
Apr 25

Imagined conversation 25

by jmgoyder

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!

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9 Comments »
Apr 24

Imagined conversation 24

by jmgoyder

Me: Tomorrow it’ll be exactly eight months since you died.

Anthony: I notice you haven’t been talking to me as much lately.

Me: I know. Sorry, I’ve been busy – really busy.

Anthony: That’s good, Jules and no need to apologise.

Me: I’m not over you or anything like that but the grief seems to have eased up a bit.

Anthony: Don’t forget me though.

Me: That would be absolutely impossible. I live in your house.

Anthony: Our house.

Me: Okay, our house but actually, technically, it’s still just your house because we never got around to the whole joint ownership thing. Your estate is still being sorted and then it’ll actually be my house – so weird.

Anthony: Yes.

Me: Everything here reminds me of you.

Anthony: That’s as it should be.

Me: Ha! That ghastly pink enamel teapot that doesn’t match the red Aga … little things like that remind me of you.

Anthony: You’re not going to sell up are you?

Me: No, of course not. It would break your heart wouldn’t it?

Anthony: I have a slightly different perspective on that now.

Me: I guess I do too. This place stopped meaning as much to me when you went into the nursing home.

Anthony: And now?

Me: Well, nothing really means as much to me now. I put on those boots you gave me today – you know the long ones with black rubber feet and brown leather up to the knees? I wanted to come straight into the nursing home to show them off to you with my new jeans and jacket and then I felt a bit sick when I remembered. That hasn’t happened for awhile.

Anthony: So what did you do?

Me: I got dressed up anyway.

Anthony: That’s my Julie.

Me: I don’t think I should sell up. Ming loves it here.

Anthony: You don’t have to decide yet do you?

Me: No.

Anthony: You sound low.

Me: Not really – just getting used to this gentle grief. I kind of miss the searing grief; it’s more solid.

Anthony: Can’t help you there, Jules.

Me: Do you miss me?

Anthony: Yes, it’s kind of boring here without you.

Me: Same here.

Anthony: I think you are absolutely marvellous, Jules.

Me: Where did that come from?

Anthony: Straight from the heart.

Me: It’s so strange to love someone so much when the person is dead.

Anthony: Who’s that then?

Me: You, you idiot!

Anthony: But I’m still here.

Me: I know that but I just wish I knew where here was.

Anthony: Here is here.

Me: Okay – so you are here, and here is here. Thanks, Ants.

Anthony: You’re welcome. Oh, and Jules?

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Me: Yes, Ants?

Anthony: You won’t get rid of that teapot will you?

Me: No way!

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14 Comments »
Apr 10

Making friends with grief

by jmgoyder

I have learned so much about grief through my imagined conversations with “Anthony deceased” (as he is described in some legal documents I had to sign the other day) that I thought I’d share them here.

One of the things I’ve discovered is that if I wake up to what I know is going to be a day of acute grief, there is no point trying to evade it (one of the things I was trying to do). Now what I do is sort of greet it kindly, not exactly in a “Hi Grief” kind of way, more in an accepting way, almost as if it is a friend. After all, my grief about Anthony’s death, personified, has more empathy for me than anybody else possibly can.

In a way, the imagined conversations are a way of addressing Grief directly if that makes sense (if you are not sure what I mean then rest assured that I’m not really sure either!) Every time I write one of these conversations, even the ones that were a bit contrived and didn’t really flow) it helped somehow. I fought against doing it for awhile because I didn’t want people to think I was going nuts. I also didn’t want to become dependent on these conversations on a daily basis, to the preclusion of other more ‘normal’ daily activities. But I don’t care about either of those things now. Writing these conversations has often been fun and is sometimes quite enlightening.

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During a grief workshop I attended recently, Pat Kelly, a grief counsellor https://www.facebook.com/pat.kelly.18488169, pointed out that there is no one way of grieving. I found that very comforting in light of the imagined conversations I was/am writing because these have helped me more with my grief than any amount of kayaking, motor-scootering, cycling, swimming, socialising and volunteering (yes, I have been busy) have. All of these activities have helped enormously of course, but writing down conversations I imagine having with a now-well Anthony has been magical.

In re-conjuring Anthony’s voice as a younger, fitter man I have remembered all sorts of wonderful things that I’d forgotten – our holidays down south when Ming was young, our debates about whether animals went to heaven, our private jokes, our delight in the moonflowers blooming, his passion for motorbikes and classic cars, the parties, and so on. I’ve remembered poignant moments and sad times as well but mostly ‘talking’ with him has been a joy. I used to tell him everything even when he became less able to converse so, during the nursing home years, I sort of forgot about the way we used to talk and talk and talk. Remembering these conversations has been like a gift.

Making friends with Grief in this manner reminds me of how I ended up making friends with Dementia. In doing so, a lot of the associated fear diminished and a feeling of wellbeing returned.

I suppose since it’s my grief, after all, I am kind of making friends with myself again too. I’ve been working on that anyway with my wonderful psychologist, Daniella Princi https://www.facebook.com/yourintrinsiclife/ whose program has provided me with all sorts of interesting tools for living my life the way I want to live it.

One thing I know for sure is that Anthony would be proud of the way I am coping with his death and he would be chuffed to think I am pretending to converse him still. He was always very accepting of my idiosyncrasies, as I was of his.

Me: I’ve sort of made friends with the grief now, Ants.

Anthony: Good on you, Jules.

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Apr 9

Imagined conversation 23

by jmgoyder

Me: I woke up this morning from the most terrible nightmare about you, Ants.

Anthony: Not very flattering, Jules, but good morning to you too.

Me: No, I don’t mean you were a monster or anything; on the other hand….

Anthony: Go on, I’m interested.

Me: Well, there are a few scenarios where I am asking you if you are seeing an ex-girlfriend – not a real one, that you really went out with – a new one who I’ve never heard of before. Anyway you say no the first time I ask you. Then, the second time I ask, you say yes, but just for dinner and you assure me that nothing untoward is going on. But, the third time, you admit that you’ve fallen in love with her.

Anthony: Ah the plot thickens….

Me: It’s not funny, Ants; I’m still trying to shake the nightmare off!

Anthony: Okay, sorry. So what happens next?

Me: During the rest of the nightmare, we are at a party. All of our friends and family are there and so is SHE. You are avoiding me and I’m upset but trying not to show it. I’m worried that you are overdoing it and amazed at how well you look considering how ill you are.

Anthony: So it’s another one of those dreams where I suddenly jump out of my wheelchair and start dancing?

Me: No. I like that dream; in this one there is no wheelchair in the first place. I keep wanting to ask you if the nursing home staff know you’re out and about and do you have your pills but it’s impossible to even get close to you.

Anthony: Am I the life of the party?

Me: Stop fishing! Yes.

Anthony: Good….

Me: Then a rumour starts circulating that you are going to announce your engagement to this other woman. Apart from the shock of hearing this, I am bewildered because you and I are already engaged. Anyway, as you are too gutless to tell me yourself, you send a friend over to tell me that you were never in love with me and that you are sorry.  I am devastated but try to act cool because people are starting to look at me sympathetically already.

Anthony: Well it’s not true, Jules.

Me: So I say to this friend that I’ve been with you for over twenty years but still waiting for you to choose a wedding date. Feeling desperate, I do a bit of a whispered rant to the friend about all of the years I’ve cared for you with your kidney cancer, prostate cancer and Parkinson’s disease, and the friend quietly commiserates,

Anthony: Who’s the friend?

Me: B.

Anthony: Oh, B. Great bloke.

Me: So then the most horrible scenario unfolds. You and this other woman announce your engagement to a shocked but delighted crowd.

Anthony: What do you do?

Me: I leave with as much dignity as I can muster. I find my car and drive away, sobbing.

Anthony: Maybe that other woman is your alter-ego?

Me: No, she has long, thick curly hair and a horsey face, and she’s ten years older than me!

Anthony: Oh.

Me: Is that all you can say – ‘Oh’?

Anthony: I’m sorry, Jules.

Me: What for? The nightmare, or what happened in the nightmare?

Anthony: Both.

Me: Well I guess it’s no more real than these conversations.

Anthony: Ouch.

Me: I felt so absolutely abandoned and alone and angry but I didn’t want everyone at the party to know how I felt.

Anthony: Maybe that’s what the nightmare was all about.

Me: When did you get your degree in rocket science?

Anthony: Superlative sarcasm, Jules – bravo!

Me: Anyway, I just wanted to tell you about it. It’s so good talking to you.

Anthony: Remember how we used to debate the difference between loving someone and being in love with someone?

Me: And how you used to say you loved me but you weren’t in love with me? Yes, difficult to forget that.

Anthony: But remember the day it all changed?

Me: Oh yes! I’d forgotten about that!

Anthony: Let’s save that for our next conversation, Jules. I’m exhausted!

Me: But I’m the one who had the nightmare! I hope I don’t have it again. Are there any nightmare tweakers where you are?

Anthony: I’ll see what I can do. And Jules?

Me: Yes?

Anthony: I’ve only ever been in love with one person.

Me: Who?

Anthony: Now you’re fishing.

Me: Well, who?

Anthony: YOU.

 

 

 

 

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5 Comments »
Dec 1

Dementia dialogues 12

by jmgoyder

Anthony: How do you always find me? It’s remarkable!

Me: I have a really good map, and a really good memory.

Anthony: You look beautiful.

Me: Wow, thanks, Ants! You look good too.

Anthony: I need to get rid of this moustache.

Me: What? You don’t have a moustache, Ants – you haven’t had a moustache for years.

Anthony: So what do I have?

Me: Well, you have a lack of moustache I guess….

Anthony: Mmm.

Me: Could we resume this discussion tomorrow?

Anthony: Yes, just bring chocolate.

 

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19 Comments »
Sep 28

Dementia dialogues 0

by jmgoyder

Me: I love you so much, Ants.

Anthony: I wonder sometimes.

Me: What do you mean?

Anthony: The way you treat me.

Me: What?

Anthony: Like a bag of old rags sometimes. Look at yourself in the mirror!

Me: I don’t understand, Ants!

Anthony: It’s all right – I forgive you.

Me: Forgive me for what? I am doing my best! Why are you being so horrible to me?

Anthony: I just want to go home and see Mum!

Me: But she’s fine, Ants!

Anthony: This has been boiling up for ages.

Me: I don’t understand.

Anthony: Yes you do, and you only barely put up with me!

The above was an uncharacteristically angry and semi-lucid conversation during which I got my notebook out to record things exactly as they were said.

A marital row, I guess – no big deal. Anthony’s sudden mistrust and cynicism about me yesterday carried itself into today but was less acute. I hope this angry thing won’t last long.

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