The first day’s sun
the new appearance of being —
Who are you?
There was no answer.
Years went by.
Day’s last sun
asked the last question from the shores of the west
in the soundless evening —
Who are you?
There was no answer.
I was a little afraid of today but it has been a sweet melancholia and quite beautiful. I THINK I have the new place as well. I do, of course, have no idea about what the upstairs people will be like but I proceed. I make a head decision not to remain in this atmosphere. Tomorrow I will have tasks to do. Acquire the bond and fill in the application form.
WE LOVED EACH OTHER so dearly in Life – it makes no sense to me that that would stop now. I don’t figure I shall have another relationship. I figure that I continue to bathe in the beauty and warmth and security of Izzy and Lynne. This year has been the kindest since 2014. I woke that morning. And he was gone on his run. He did that most days.
BUT HE DIDN’T COME HOME.
The Police came and my daughter who was talking to me on the phone screamed. A scream I can still hear like a Celtic wailing. The police took me up Valery Road to where Izzy lay beside the road in the dust. Covered in a blue sheet like all the movies tell us. I didn’t kneel. I didn’t kiss him. I knew he was gone and myriad sparkles of light flashed out all over the place in the Forest. As if his body could no longer contain all the energy he had and all the things he wanted to do. He was Life to me, Izzy was.
He bubbled and sparked and sang and played and talked and mowed. He was Life. I am the Passivity. The Receptacle. I did not know whether or not he had poured enough Life into me for me to continue. Some days I still don’t know – some days I do.
I CONTINUE. CHANGED.
I continue quietly and singly. The space at the new place will suit me but I don’t know about the neighbours. No matter for now. I shall deal with it. When and if it happens. I think I am ready to enjoy my space again after so long. I think I am ready to come down to the amount of possessions I had in Bilambil. I think it is time to get what I do own in order. I am so much stronger than I was even one month back.
i thought that death was death
the words people wrote meant nothing to me
now i think that death is no less strange
than all the rest
The day will come
When the sight of this earth will be lost
I will take my leave in silence
As the stars look on
I know the sun will rise again
The hours will still bring pleasure and pain
In heaving waves.
When I think of the end, time crumbles
I see by the light of death
That the lowliest existence is rare
And the worst moments are precious
What I longed for will be set aside
The things I pursued in vain —
Let them pass
Let me turn
To things I overlooked
And carelessly threw away
To possess them truly until they are mine
As the stars look on.
He went to the core of inner silence. What did this silence tell him? First it made him aware that death is always stalking us, every moment of our lives, not as an enemy but as part of the Unknown that surrounds existence. You have only to look over your shoulder to see that death is a little closer than the last time you looked. Having faced this fact, should you live in perpetual anxiety? For Tagore this knowledge made life magical, because he was forced to change his priorities. ‘Things that I longed for and things that I pursued, let them pass away,’ Tagore writes. ‘Instead let me truly possess what I overlooked and ignored.’
I DID my washing at Kaybee’s place today. I don’t have a working washing machine. Sometimes. Lise does it but I would prefer to do my own and am feeling well enough to do so at the moment.
Kaybee was cooking a huge meal for the family of J who died. She is a good cook, my Girl is. I like Community. The cooked meals got me through a year or two after Izzy’s death and my illness. Its not just that its food although that counts. Its also that the food is cooked and delivered with LOVE. The kind of Love that keeps people going.
The Kids all grew up together and are still bonded. That’s Community.
Its been a cold day but inside here is warm enough. The being dug into the side of a hill makes it dark and grey but rather well insulated. It was 6 degrees when I woke up.
I am waiting now because Kaybee said she would drop food in for me as well on her way home from delivering the Big Meal to the Mourners.
I am not thinking much of late and that feels good. The Fear has eased and some inner core is forming. Long may these things last.
‘I shall have no partner in thelast business,And what strength shall Ishow?Will it take long for Death me toundress?What shall I know?‘But, a good traveller, much willbe familiar,WenVnesR will not be stranae:
Nor echoing cry, the naked will,the dark starRising for bitter change.‘ ‘Shrouds have no pockets!’ Truefool, but the heart has! ?When my grey fingers grope,And those at whose door I diedlook what my store was,Tell them the tax is paid; I can
take it; the white shell — Hope.’
Today I heard of two deaths. One was a man I knew just a little who hung himself. A sweet and handsome man. A musician.
The other was a woman I have known many years. I taught her children and they are friends, close friends, with mine. She has been ill for a very long time with a degenerative disease of some kind which had fairly much crippled her. A stunning, dynamic woman.
Death was afar from me for most of my life. Nowadays, she has a different place in my life. Nowadays I am not sure what decisions I would make. The time in the Old People’s ward at Bellingen Hospital horrified me. I have had many evenings of wondering whether the time is coming for me to leave the Planet.
Before the pain eased and sleep was lost to me.
Before I was able to lift and push and move and think again.
I wondered a good deal. I thought of kayaks and the river and the opioids.
I am 67 years old now and many people I know are dead or dying. I have been driven to finding a new place in my thinking about Death.
I CANCELLED the specialist appointment today. Lied to do it . I had zero confidence in that man and didn’t like the atmosphere at his surgery. They don’t even have email or answer machine. I don’t fancy a Doc who is that far behind in the times.
My Ex is ill again with more procedures affecting him. There is a whole batch of us with Hepatitis C and I , for one, spend most days scared shitless. I am, however, NOT grabbing at wafting vapours of Possible Hope.
So each day comes along now and whatever I do or do not do is good enough. Rich enough. Right enough.
Each day comes along and :
See what a wealth of love has been lavished upon me.
Fare thee well, J. Fare thee well.
“We have to cry, in sorrow, share our grief by crying and that’s how we break that [grief], by sharing together as a community. This is an important aspect of our culture. And this is how we are brought up. I see it is lacking in a lot of other towns where we go. We go there to meet people and to share our sorrows and the white way of living in the town is breaking our culture.”
“And a lot of towns you go to for funerals, want to do their own little individual things, instead of dropping what they’re doing to get together to meet the people coming in from out of town. The family has to sit in one house, or one area, so people know that they have to go straight into that place and meet up. We go and pay our respects. You supposed to just sit down and meet, eat together, share, until that body is put away, you know. Afterwards, we do whatever we want to do, after we leave that certain family…”
And for my sister who was taken in 2012 by lung cancer.
It seems to me that I am not very far behind you all.