'Where do they go?'
As I watched the Temple Grandin movie recently, her heart rending question as she watched people and animals die, triggered the grief in my heart. "Where did he go? He was just there and now he's gone! Where did he go?"
One never knows when its going to jump up and bite you. Grief.
This year has seen the loss of:
My darling Dad
The dear, dear mother of Kindergarten Friend, my youngest sister's Godmother.
And my Bestie's beautiful mother (seen here with my own darling Mum).
Each one of them has taken a piece of me with them, wherever they have gone.
I'm not going to start with Dad. That is so huge I would never get to the other two extraordinary women who touched and moulded my life. I want to give respect to them and the manner of their passing; both tortured and peaceful. This in itself requires reflection.
So. I bring them to you now in their prime, but let me also bring you context.
In 1965 we moved into our family home. It was the first house my parents had owned and was to be our home for the following 16 years. We arrived in this house as a family of four but added my youngest sister 5 years later. See that annex to the left? We built that. In this house we met two of the most important families in our lives.
Further down the street (they were No 8 , we were No 11) was a family with a girl of a similar age to me. I have no recollection of our first meeting, although she claims to, for me she has just 'always been there'. She had a very different life to me. She was an only child and her parents were quite different to mine. Ok, VERY different to mine.
Her dad was a practical man; tall, handsome, confident, at some point in my early life...a pilot!!! He built things. He fixed cars! With a country upbringing he understood animals, in a pragmatic way that at times shocked me. Cats were a case in point. Although he loved them, he knew when there were too many and when they had to go. One afternoon there were 20 kittens in the backyard. The next day there was one mother cat. The Bestie's dad taught me that there were different ways to think about things, animals being a case in point. I didn't always agree but I began to understand that my perception was not the only one. (Interestingly his daughter is now a member of the Zoo board, active in the conservation of animals).
He was a gentleman in the old style, somewhat out of step with the swinging sixties when our families met. He insisted on opening car doors for us, going so far as to berate us if we didn't stay in the car waiting for him to do so! He saw himself as Lord of his Manor and protector of his women folk. It was a 1940s romantic hero role which left the Bestie and I killing ourselves laughing as we reached our Women's Lib inspired teens. On reflection, we should probably have valued his attitude more and looked for blokes who were at least a little like him!
The Bestie's mother was an exotic creature who completely fascinated me. She came from a family 'with money' (her sister drove an E-Type Jag!) and knew all about the 'finer things' in life. Unlike my mother in so many ways, she wore makeup. One day she let me watch her 'put on her face'. I remember that to this day and every morning as I go to work I 'put on my face' as she did, a mask for the person I must be there. She defied fashion trends and wore what suited her. Unlike my own mother, when everyone else wore mini skirts she sensibly assessed her own best assets and took to kaftans. Through my Bestie she introduced me to musicals: 'Gypsy', 'The Pyjama Game', 'Camelot','Man of La Mancha'; we would sit for hours playing them over and over, and she would share her reflections on them: the drama, the love stories and the ultimately wonderful happy endings. She was a hopeless romantic and her husband was the love of her life.
We lost HH, the Bestie's dad in 2017. It had been a slow and steady decline into COPD brought on by the glamorous. manly smoking of cigarettes, so admired in the 40s and 50s. He quit on his 50th birthday but the damage had been done. It was hard to watch this larger than life character shrink before our eyes. His latter days defined the character and values he had lived. It became obvious later that he had been covering for the Bestie's Mum's dementia for some time. As always, it had fallen to him to protect and care for his loved one, a duty he did not shirk despite his failing health. So concerned was he for his 'Little Fluff' that as he collapsed and lay helpless in the bathroom, he called through to her that he was 'alright' and that he'd be 'coming out soon'. It breaks my heart to think of it.
We had the Bestie's Mum for another 7 years and at times we wondered why. Her dementia progressed rapidly and as she moved from Retirement Village to Nursing Home, everything about her that was 'her', leaked away. She lost her interest in arts and crafts, which were so much a part of our lives with her growing up. She couldn't concentrate on movies or music and eventually her physical health deteriorated in a savage and painful way that left us praying for her release. But through all that she maintained her unfailing good manners (staff always commented about how grateful she was and how polite) and her delight in the two of us. "You girls are so beautiful", she would say,'you make me feel alive."
I was privileged to sit with her through her last week, singing to her, talking to her and attempting to find Bible passages that didn't involve Hell, damnation and any reference to smiting. On the day before she died, the Bestie, myself and The Diva sat around her bed, unresponsive as she was, telling stories, sharing memories, singing, laughing and sighing in equal measure. We kissed her goodbye and said we'd be back tomorrow but she'd had the best day, so she left in the early hours of the following morning.
And with her went a huge part of my life and who I am.
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