363 days ago, my beloved Terry was struggling to breathe. Dear Friends were staying with us and seeing to his meds and personal needs. I was napping for an hour or two every 4-5 hours, in between holding vigil. The final days involved many people passing through our bedroom, whispering thanks and blessings, sometimes singing and laughing at shared stories. I don’t know how much he was aware of in those final days. I do remember my old A Capella group, Mixed Blessing, singing carols from our balcony through the screen door. He seemed to rally for a few precious moments of consciousness to beam at them. He couldn’t talk by then, but he smiled beautifully, making so much effort feel like a good investment. The power of singing lifts the soul and comforts the spirit. Perhaps their voices called home a little closer to heaven? I like to think so.
This time last year, we joked that he was at the gates of heaven but had offered St Peter to go take a smoko while he did the welcoming. He lingered there for awhile… one foot here, one foot there. I imagined his friends on the other side, telling him to stop wasting time and come in. He was in no rush. He would companion others who were less certain of the way. He knew things would be ok.
Today I attended Van Gogh Alive at the old Moore Park Showgrounds. It took me back nine years to when we had visited the Van Gogh Museum in Amsterdam, and a few years later when we visited Arles and St Remy, following in the footsteps of the vibrant and troubled painter. Van Gogh said that he devoted his passion and soul to his art and he paid for it with his mind. Terry’s brain cancer took some of his faculties, but his passion and soul stayed true. He lived life in vibrancy. He never stopped living to the fullest. When others might have resigned themselves to a quieter existence, he simply made even greater efforts to learn new ways of overcoming the obstacles. I learnt determination from him.
Grief can be a mixture of tears and smiles, a catch of breath and remembered love. Van Gogh mentioned love a lot. Love and beauty – related themes, for beauty is appreciated in loving. Maybe this is the promise of resurrection – that even after death, surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life – and, one day – I will dwell in the house of the Lord, forever and ever.
Tonight I will watch some ‘hit and giggle’ (T20) cricket at the SCG, sitting in ‘our seat(s)’ on the deck of the MA Noble Stand. I will hang on to the inherited membership a little longer, just to see if his grandsons learn to appreciate the heritage. So many years, we sat in companionship there, often accompanied by dear friends. It will be strange to be there without him, but I suspect he will be watching.
