Sunday, May 04, 2008


I've had a week of past years coming back to haunt me. A neighbour passing me in the supermarket with another grandchild in tow and telling me about the next one about to be born.
"And how are yours?"
"I don't know. No word, no photographs in twelve months."

Home to another email from another neighbour to let me know that a girl my son grew up with had given birth to a baby boy. She already has two girls, the eldest a year younger than my granddaughter. I haven't seen her for 10 or 12 years but it sounds as though she's happy and going well. And I swear and tear up because she's here and he's not.

I give myself a mental shake and remind myself that thinking like that is not fair to her. She's 35 and made it through anorexia, drug addiction, being pimped out by a boyfriend and getting Hep C but not HIV through good fortune. She's here because I helped her throughout her life.

I helped her on the day of the funeral when she wept in my arms. When she cried, "I'm nothing. I'm no use to anyone so it should be me that's dead. It should be me." But it wasn't and I want for her to be a wonderful mother with her life full of laughter.

So I dragged out the box of mementos and read the notice she'd put in for Euan.

Euan (tragically) died aged 24. I've know you since I can remember, and to think of all the things we got up to when we were kids and young teenagers. There's a never ending list; Pavlovas in the face, swimming lessons with you and all our birthday parties when we were young. I could go on forever. I'm just thankful I was the one who had the privilege to have grown up all my life with such a fine young man who was taken far too soon, and will live on forever in my heart and mind and memories over the past 24 years that can never be taken away. Rest in peace my little matey. All my love forever.

Iwant her to live in happiness forever, the bubbly blonde with the blue eyes who laughed and fought with him and loved him.


Ozfemme said...

Time passes and love doesn't. You must miss him so much. Words are clumsy. Be well.

phil said...

Words are clumsy but you have a dedicated readership that is there for you.
The comment enabler is jkklwoe which kind of sums it up.

JahTeh said...

I have so many memories of the kids together and in her case I can honestly say "the parents did it" not by any abuse but just by the "me first" attitude.

The fruits of a cold afternoon with half a bottle of gin and a filigree hamster for company.

Andrew said...

Gee, one slightly teary occasion today and now another. Bring on the gin, it was a nice post.

Kelly & Sam Pilgrim-Byrne said...

Oh, God JT - I can't even begin to imagine...

Jayne said...


Brian Hughes said...

Had a similar flood of emotions from the depths of my subconcious at the museum yesterday when I realised that all my old friends who used to work there have passed away in the last twelve months. I'm not sure if dwelling on the subject is cathartic or self destructive. Either way, it was all a bit difficult to handle, so I went home and downed half a bottle of whisky instead.

JahTeh said...

Andrew, I'm going to be very sooky when you leave for overseas and there'll be tears if you don't travel blog.

Muriels, keep posting photos of the gorgeous Miss C. She cheers me out of any mood.

Thank you Jayne, take good care of the FB.

Fleetwood, what are they brewing in the museum tea? Not the half bottle of whisky you just chugged. It's a tough life being an antiquarian but you're safe as only the good die young and you ain't good and you sure ain't young.

Lord Sedgwick said...

Yer a crusty ole softy Coppertop, which is why we luvs yer.

... and forget the Muriels posting photos of the gorgeous Miss C. You keep emailing me and the lesser noble from Fleetwood those pics of you and that endless raft of doe-eyed twinks in the jacuzzi.

Brian Hughes said...


I might not be good and I might not be young, but whatever they're putting in that museum tea it's doing the trick. I'm old and bad...very baaaard (raises eyebrow suggestively...although perhaps with a creak)and I've still got a few time-earned tricks up my slightly frayed sleeve.

Anonymous said...

Jt, I honestly believe that you are the most understanding, compassionate and insightful being!

She loved him. He was loved. He is still loved. He will always be with you and with her.

However, YOU are the one that radiates this strenght! Perhaps he helps her also!

OMG, your son must have been beautiful because he was shown such lessons by a woman I admire .

You are the rarest gem I have known.

Me XXX :~)

JahTeh said...

Morgana, he was as infuriating as he was lovely and I can still hear him laugh. He'd have been rolfing about the filigree hamster.

Fleetwood, You've been peeping at the Pompeii walls again, haven't you.

Sedgwick, you're welcome in my jacuzzi anytime. Ring first and I'll have Bondi Rescue on standby.

Anonymous said...

Great to hear! And he wasn't a Taurean like me by any chance?

And you are so modest...! Can you teach me anything about fashion? I'm nightmarish and your a hit at it!


Lord Sedgwick said...

Let's make the bathing a menage a trois.

Let's invite M. Dreyfus to join us in the sluicing, sloshing and wallowing.

Reckon he'd be up for it. I've seen his prodigious magnum opus, "J'accuzi."

OK I know. I'm going to Hell for that one, just behind Hughes in the Seniors' Card queue for the one way trip to Valhalla, courtesy of the Ring Bondi Rescue Cycle.

(That's it, I'm a dead man!)