Ye Goddess and little fishes, two blogs in one week already! Play your chocolate bribes right and I might even manage a third, fourth, fifth…
I felt it was time to reinstate my ‘random musings’ blogs again, and kind of make them more thematic depending on the day of the week I’m writing them. In this case, the idea hit me on Monday (yeah, ok, so it’s actually Tuesday, but I got the idea yesterday so it counts as a Monday one!), and I thought I’d run with the twee idea of a topic that starts with “M”. I definitely lack imagination.
Memories are odd things. They stay with you for what feels like forever, and yet there’s some you wish you could recall with more detail. Much as there’s some you wish would just get the hell out of your mind and take a long walk off a short pier or something. 😛
My Monday memories floated in whilst I was having a quiet moment – ironically just after I’d turned off my computer for the day, hence why I’m blogging it on Tuesday – and they bounced about a number of events and people in my lifetime.
Memory One (this one comes with a 😀 rating);
Getting out of the car in late July 2010, outside what was to become a few weeks later, our Home by the Sea. There was some trepidation on my part, the photo the rental agency had put up on their site weren’t overly “come on over and take a look!”. In fact, the only photo they had posted at the time put me off the place completely. But we were desperate to find a place in our budget range and it was one of 2 that were at the time available. We walked up the terracotta-coloured brick drive, and I couldn’t help feeling a little better about the idea, as the first thing my eyes hit were a profusion of flowers in the small garden of the front unit. Then the gentle breeze tickled my spine, and let’s face it, even in winter, some parts of Australia can’t even be called ‘cool’. Bonus two, cooling breeze! Then the scent of lavender hit me. A big wave of it. I followed my schnozz to the large planting of said lavender, and perked up still further because it was outside the unit we were scheduled to have a look at. This place was looking better than the dreadful picture with every minute!
The agent arrives, and opens up the door, then hurries to open the drapes to let us see the interior better… it took us all of 5 minutes to give it an 8 on our rating scale and tell the agent that we were very interested in the place. Three weeks later, the moving van arrived before we did, but we were here. Home by the Sea. And we’ve been happy here ever since.
Memory Two (more of a 😦 rating on this one);
And to add to it, it’s not precisely a memory that’s mine. In fact, it’s a collection of memories that belongs to a friend of my late brother’s, that she wrote up a year after he’d passed, and posted it on the 10th anniversary of his passing. I’ll share it with you, because seriously, anything I say to summarise just won’t do it justice. Please keep in mind, when she mentions pills, she means officially ‘scripted meds, as he wasn’t a well young man…
I wrote this a long time ago (9 years!), and although a lot of it is rather sentimental and trite, and not in any way good writing, I think my conclusion remains very very true, and has only become more so with the passing of the years:
“I reflect on the memory of the incorrigible. On history lectures and debates, on drunken mailing list posts, on beer night, on those conversations in quieter corners of parties. I remember the thought waves and the gaming, genuine compassion and the best hugs. I see white socks and swollen fingers, bribes of coke cans and enough pills to down a large horse. Secrets and bonds late at night, silly drinking games, erratic car rides. A baby, and a bottle of bourbon. A zest for life, born of knowledge of it’s brevity. Dedication and effort to studies and organisation, and slacking. Mischievous and devious. And oh, that smile and laugh.I remember the party animal, but more than that I remember the scholar, the sharp mind and tongue, and my friend, the compassionate and caring.
You told me not to cry for you, when you had passed, but to be glad for you had enjoyed your life. You told me not to be surprised, but to accept it as a natural passing.
I remember thinking your choice of words odd, for ‘passed away’ was not a phrase I associated with you. I think now that you meant that you would go, when it was right. And you had fought the specter of death so many times, that I have to believe you chose your moment, chose when to stop raging against the dying of the light.
I am glad you did not fade away in some sterile environment.
I never promised not to cry, for which I am glad, for I would have broken my word so many times in the past year. I said instead that you couldn’t expect people not to grieve, because they loved you. And in that I know I was right.
You lived a life which touched others, you made people happier, and your absence makes them sad. It is, in the end, my friend, really a compliment.
Some people say that as long as others remember you, you are not truly gone. If that is true then you will live on for a long long time, for you are firmly lodged in people’s hearts, minds and memories.
-Cat Milligan –