Fragments of Friends
'Let your
love be disgraceful, crazy and wild. If you are too holy god will escape you'
Rumi
Rumi
I was her
age now when I met her. She was selling handmade jewelry in a
marketplace. She was 20, in love, and almost pregnant.
One of those people you want to know forever and to whom I've now had to say goodbye.
On the road i have said goodbye to many friends acquaintances, passer-byes, angels, lovers and over time it became easy, accept the inevitable and move on.
It wasn't so easy to say goodbye to this friend.
marketplace. She was 20, in love, and almost pregnant.
One of those people you want to know forever and to whom I've now had to say goodbye.
On the road i have said goodbye to many friends acquaintances, passer-byes, angels, lovers and over time it became easy, accept the inevitable and move on.
It wasn't so easy to say goodbye to this friend.
I met
Steph sitting by a backyard campfire. Three years later in a small room she
gave me a stone sculpture, could be held in two hands. It was of two lovers in
a Thomas Moreish embrace, sculpted by a mutual friend. Of us.
It was my turn to have it.
Seven years later she flew around the world to visit me in the Kimberly. We had always written and now that i was no longer a chauvanistic controlling arsehole she had appreciated my help in moving with her through her divorce. We spent a week by rivers and gorges, unfinished business, saying goodbye.
Now it was her turn to have the sculpture.
Last year she flew around the world to visit me, for a day. We hadn't seen each other in 39 years, though often a birthday and xmas card and the occasional phone call. We exchanged photos so we would recognize each other. Now that Essa had gone it was my turn.
We would never have not recognised each other.
It was my turn to have it.
Seven years later she flew around the world to visit me in the Kimberly. We had always written and now that i was no longer a chauvanistic controlling arsehole she had appreciated my help in moving with her through her divorce. We spent a week by rivers and gorges, unfinished business, saying goodbye.
Now it was her turn to have the sculpture.
Last year she flew around the world to visit me, for a day. We hadn't seen each other in 39 years, though often a birthday and xmas card and the occasional phone call. We exchanged photos so we would recognize each other. Now that Essa had gone it was my turn.
We would never have not recognised each other.
If it
took seven years to say goodbye to Steph, it took twenty minutes to say goodbye
to Jan.
Things were improving, I'd learnt a few things.
Jan was passing by, going in a different direction.
A complete stranger, a few hours before she was moving on, i saw her reclining in rest, eyes closed but awake. She looked like an angel. I watched the four seconds it took to change my life, i watched my arm reach out and my finger touch her lips. She kissed my finger.
We spent the next year being together, living together, traveling together.
When i drove her to the airport i didn't watch her leave. I drove 10 minutes to a country lane, climbed into the back of the van where in that same place we had made love half an hour before, and i howled, cried, sobbed and wailed.For twenty minutes, wrenching every last drop from me until there was nothing left. Absolutely nothing. The grief howled out. All that was left was a nothing full of life and light.
Got out of the van, threw my clothes into the hedgerow, put fresh clothes on, and drove into a clear blue sky.
Wonder what will happen now.
Things were improving, I'd learnt a few things.
Jan was passing by, going in a different direction.
A complete stranger, a few hours before she was moving on, i saw her reclining in rest, eyes closed but awake. She looked like an angel. I watched the four seconds it took to change my life, i watched my arm reach out and my finger touch her lips. She kissed my finger.
We spent the next year being together, living together, traveling together.
When i drove her to the airport i didn't watch her leave. I drove 10 minutes to a country lane, climbed into the back of the van where in that same place we had made love half an hour before, and i howled, cried, sobbed and wailed.For twenty minutes, wrenching every last drop from me until there was nothing left. Absolutely nothing. The grief howled out. All that was left was a nothing full of life and light.
Got out of the van, threw my clothes into the hedgerow, put fresh clothes on, and drove into a clear blue sky.
Wonder what will happen now.
It became
easy to say goodbye. Simply accepting what was happening.
Dozens, hundreds of people appeared. In minutes, in hours, days weeks months, sometimes decades. Always the few with an instant no mind connection, seeing their energy and their bones. And over time watching them drift away. All those goodbyes.
I will always love them, it's not possible not to.
I will always remember them.
I thought about them every day. ....... for awhile. .
Dozens, hundreds of people appeared. In minutes, in hours, days weeks months, sometimes decades. Always the few with an instant no mind connection, seeing their energy and their bones. And over time watching them drift away. All those goodbyes.
I will always love them, it's not possible not to.
I will always remember them.
I thought about them every day. ....... for awhile. .
Now
there's only a handful of friends. Lovers long gone since Essa left.
And the memories are starting to drift away also. Those fingers of dementia reaching out from the horizon to flick them away, and you don't know they're gone until you remember them, and then they're gone again.
I remember things not thought of for fifty years and gasp in astonishment and pleasure at the recall. I know i won't remember it again. .. unless i write it down.
Sometimes i tell a story and by the time i get to the point of it, I've forgotten it.
That creeping dementia.
I am grateful to my friend for taking me to memories before i lose them. Memories not triggered by anyone else.
And the memories are starting to drift away also. Those fingers of dementia reaching out from the horizon to flick them away, and you don't know they're gone until you remember them, and then they're gone again.
I remember things not thought of for fifty years and gasp in astonishment and pleasure at the recall. I know i won't remember it again. .. unless i write it down.
Sometimes i tell a story and by the time i get to the point of it, I've forgotten it.
That creeping dementia.
I am grateful to my friend for taking me to memories before i lose them. Memories not triggered by anyone else.
My friend
has also drifted away, moved on. She has given me so much joy, especially in
recent years. Adventures and conversations with a beautiful soul.
She speaks with intent.
Convoluted, shambolic, ornery, fractious, forgetful, diffident, all an alibi for spontaneity, commitment, heartfelt generosity and love.
Living moment to moment on the feral fringe. Like a wandering stray, an animal that wanders off from the mob into the bush.
She has been a catalyst, particularly this year, for so many memories .... of saying goodbye.
So many memories that i want to seize, before they're gone forever.
As it slowly fades who will now stretch my memory in so many different directions.
She speaks with intent.
Convoluted, shambolic, ornery, fractious, forgetful, diffident, all an alibi for spontaneity, commitment, heartfelt generosity and love.
Living moment to moment on the feral fringe. Like a wandering stray, an animal that wanders off from the mob into the bush.
She has been a catalyst, particularly this year, for so many memories .... of saying goodbye.
So many memories that i want to seize, before they're gone forever.
As it slowly fades who will now stretch my memory in so many different directions.
