jmgoyder

wings and things

Blogging and memory

Yesterday I was going to write about how glad I am that I started blogging back in November, 2011, because otherwise I would possibly have forgotten some of the events, details and emotions from then until now, and I don’t want to forget. But I was having a bit of a blah day so couldn’t be bothered putting the words down and decided, instead, to post the photo of the big red shed because I forgot I had already done this a few days ago. I’m surprised nobody commented on my memory lapse! And if my memory is so bad that I re-posted an already posted photo, then I am doubly glad of this blog as a memory prompter. But I still feel stupid – oh well!

Today I had numerous errands around town so I went to pick up Anthony to accompany me (as I often do now). He sits in the car with the radio on while I hop in and out, drive here and there. First though we met my mother at a coffee shop and, as usual, my ma and I had lots of conversation while Ants remained fairly silent (he doesn’t talk much now). Eventually, Anthony tried to get up out of his chair, indicating he’d had enough, so we left and, as I was putting him in the car, I asked, “How come you got sick of us?” and he said, with sudden articulateness, “Because nothing either of you said was of any interest to me.” As we drove off to the first errand, I could not stop laughing! His sense of humour is so slicingly droll.

The sun is having a hard time getting through the clouds but it is happening, this belated spring. Here are some photos to prove it (and so I don’t forget!)

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Metamorphing 1

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I seem to be experiencing one metamorphosis after another, having finally adapted to, and accepted, the way my own life has changed since Anthony went to the nursing lodge.

The terrible sense of loss, and the unending grief, haven’t dissipated, but I seem to have developed/discovered a bedrock of joy, no matter how sad or anxious I get about things. It’s so weird!

Yesterday I tried to describe this to Anthony, while I gave him a taste of my latest baked delight – a date loaf recipe my friend Nicola gave me, enhanced with the addition of glace cherries and coconut butter. The result, according to Ming, was a disaster, and, according to Ants, rather dry, and according to Nicola, almost like her recipe but not quite. Oh well, it is edible and that’s the main thing! I will do her recipe properly tomorrow.

Anyway, I was telling Ants about how my whole attitude had changed and that I felt like I’d fallen in love with him all over again. My euphoria was slightly dented when he responded with a rather lame “That’s good then,” between mouthfuls of the rather dry cake.

“You’re supposed to be really thrilled when I say that kind of loveydovey thing,” I harrumphed, indignantly.

Anthony looked at me, his face nearly smiling, his eyes nearly twinkling; then he reached out and took one of my warm hands in one of his always-cold hands, and said, “You are wonderful. I wish I didn’t love you so much.”

Gutsy9 (pictured) is always a source of cheer for all three of us.

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Two very wet alpacas

Apparently our phone wiring has had the bomb and that is why the home phone crackles and the internet is having so many siestas. I am tempted to let the home phone die and get one of those usb thingys for the internet. I have already replaced my ancient mobile phone with a new one.

It is still very wet so I am practically living in my wellys.

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The alpacas are ambivalent when it comes to the rain. They seem to take everything in their stride, although Uluru looks slightly happier than Okami.

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The camellias are responding ecstatically to the rain. Now, even though I can’t think of anything worse than gardening, I do love the dozens of camellias Anthony has planted over the years. The one with the ballerina petals is the only one I bought myself. I took the first bloom into Ants the other day.

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I’ll take another one in this afternoon. On my way in, I’m hoping to collect a picture I’m having framed for Anthony’s wall. It’s a photo of Ants at around the time I first met him, 35 years ago. Funnily enough, it is not my idea to put this picture on the wall; it’s Anthony’s. I said why not one of our wedding photos, or that one of you on the motorbike with Ming?. But he said no, that he just wanted himself! His self-confidence is certainly still intact; he even got me to blow the photo up to a bigger size!

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Congratulations Ashtyn and Gordon!

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The wedding.

In a few days my first niece, Ashtyn, will be wedded to a Scottish man, Gordon, in a castle in Scotland. My mother arrived there safely and she and Ash have now had two days together. I am so jealous but am comforted by the fact that the newlyweds will be moving back here to Western Australia in December – yeeha!

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They are both extremely photogenic.

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Nosey!

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It’s all very odd to me, and possibly illusory, but for the last few days our visits to Anthony, little drives here and there and, today, Ming’s famous NOSEY with Anthony, have reproduced a longlost joy.

Sorry – that sentence was far too long. Oh, and what is a NOSEY? It’s when you ‘kiss’ someone with your nose. We three have now been doing this for nearly 20 years. It’s quite pleasant.

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You’re the only one left

Anthony and I exchange I love you as if we are some sort of romantically tragic play that never reaches its denoument.

But the other night on the phone the script shifted, rustling the worn paragraphs of our repetitive goodnight conversation.

Me: I love you.
Anthony: You’re the only one left.

That shocked me a bit, but he didn’t say it self-pityingly at all; he said it with certainty, like a simple fact.

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One-liners

Anthony has always been really good at encapsulating what would take me paragraphs to describe. And, in between the worsening mumblingishness of his speech, he comes out with extraordinary witticisms.

This afternoon, for instance, we were drinking red wine and watching an appallingly good soap opera on TV when the guy in the next room (I’ll call him John for anonymity) accidentally walked in.

I see Anthony’s eyes, usually expressionless, harden. So I get up and gently steer John back into the hallway where a nurse takes his arm and tells him she has made a cup of tea. He looks back at me and says, Tomorrow we gistust this potatoes worry, okay?

Leaping back into Anthony’s room (before he drinks my wine!) I ask him about John.

What do you do when he comes into your room and disturbs you? I ask.

He looks at me really seriously and quietly says, PANIC!

I laugh so loud that a nurse comes in, worried that I am upset about the John incident. I tell her what Ants said and she guffaws too.

As I am leaving, I hug my husband and he whispers in my ear, I am making people laugh again, Jules!

So you’ve stopped the grumpy thing? I ask, hopefully (knowing that my gentle man has become uncharacteristically cantankerous lately).

But in just these few minutes of saying goodbye, he has gone somewhere and there is no point trying to follow him.

So I go to where my sobs won’t be heard – the disabled toilet near the exit from the nursing lodge – then I wash my face, put my lipstick back on, and go back to say seeya to Ants.

Panic.

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Not so heavy.

This afternoon, Ants and I sat out in the sun, on the beach side of the nursing lodge, then went for a short walk up the rather steep driveway so we could catch a glimpse of the ocean.

To give you an idea of how exhausting this was for Ants, the distance up to the crest is about 15 – 20 ordinary strides. Anthony uses a walker of course, but can barely lift his feet so, for him, the distance to the crest was well over 100 shuffled steps, then back down again. Once inside, I could barely get him back to the armchair in his room and thought I’d have to get the wheelchair, but we made it.

Getting him to turn around, let go of the walker and sit in the chair took ages, and I finally used all my strength to sort of hoist him around and plonk him down. This left us both gasping and I got the giggles.

I bet the nurses are much gentler with you, I said.
But with you, there are sexual overtones, he said with a hint of a smile.
For God’s sake, Ants, are you crazy? I yelped.
Then why are you blushing?

I can assure you, I was not blushing!

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Parkinsonism, body thermostats, and the bitch.

The other day, when Anthony was home for lunch and the afternoon, and Ming and I were trying to get the living room warm enough for him, I became a bit impatient. We had a roaring fire going, a heater on, and two blankets on his knees, but he was still shivering with cold in a room so hot that I was soaked with perspiration.

Your thermostat’s had the bomb, Ants! I accidentally sort of yelled this as I was wrapping the stupid blankets under and around his feet.

Mum, don’t be such a bitch! Yes, that came from Ming of course.

Ants, can you tell Ming not to ever again call me a bitch?

And then Anthony said very clearly, I think, that in this context, it’s acceptable.

Shared laughter immediately thrilled its way through that hot room!

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