Wednesday, 28 July 2010
my friend
When I went to university there were only a small handful of us (okay 6 of us) who were on the same bursary scheme and so when I started off in a new country, feeling very alone and scared, I was so relieved to find that two of them were in the same English and Linguistics lectures and one of those two was in Geography with me as well.
That was Bruce. Almost immediately we became such good friends. We drank coffee in eachothers rooms, shared precious biscuits that mums had made and put in our luggage when we left after every vac. We worked together, spent ages discussing everything. In short he became the best friend I'd ever had, the older brother. I felt loved, protected, supported.
What no-one seemed to get is that we really were just friends. Everyone seemed to think there was more to it - secret shags at least! His girlfriend and my boyfriend were Not Impressed and it caused many a problem!
Years later we both left Zim. He and his wife (the girlfriend from before!) and gorgeous kids live in Doha - which isn't very far away but feels like a universe apart. We chat online.
I miss him. I miss him so much. I miss the banter, the gentle shoves, the teasing. I miss the fact that he used to make tea just exactly how I like it, without asking, and never making any for himself. I miss the hugs.
Now he's in South Africa with his family, on holiday. He's staying in a place where we'll be passing through in a blink, at the same time! We'll be going to see some favourite godparents - real angels. And we probably can't stop because there is so much banked on when we arrive and leave....
I miss my friend. I think my soul is crying.
That was Bruce. Almost immediately we became such good friends. We drank coffee in eachothers rooms, shared precious biscuits that mums had made and put in our luggage when we left after every vac. We worked together, spent ages discussing everything. In short he became the best friend I'd ever had, the older brother. I felt loved, protected, supported.
What no-one seemed to get is that we really were just friends. Everyone seemed to think there was more to it - secret shags at least! His girlfriend and my boyfriend were Not Impressed and it caused many a problem!
Years later we both left Zim. He and his wife (the girlfriend from before!) and gorgeous kids live in Doha - which isn't very far away but feels like a universe apart. We chat online.
I miss him. I miss him so much. I miss the banter, the gentle shoves, the teasing. I miss the fact that he used to make tea just exactly how I like it, without asking, and never making any for himself. I miss the hugs.
Now he's in South Africa with his family, on holiday. He's staying in a place where we'll be passing through in a blink, at the same time! We'll be going to see some favourite godparents - real angels. And we probably can't stop because there is so much banked on when we arrive and leave....
I miss my friend. I think my soul is crying.
Tuesday, 27 July 2010
Shantaram
For this is what we do. Put one foot forward and then the other. Lift our eyes to the snarl and smile of the world once more. Think. Act. Feel. Add our little consequences to the tides of good and evil that flood and drain the world. Drag our shadowed crosses into the hope of another night. Push our brave hearts into the promise of a new day. With love: the passionate search for a truth other than our own. With longing: the pure, ineffable yearning to be saved. For so long as fate keeps waiting, we live on. God help us. God forgive us. We live on.
Monday, 26 July 2010
talking to angels...
Today I trundled along with my parcels off to the post office. It was with some foreboding - 7 packages, all weighing between 1 and 2kg and all being posted off to Knit-A-Square in South Africa. The queue was already long and I wasn't helping with my 3 bags of parcels!
The old lady in front of me happened to turn around and see my baggage!
"Ooh. You've got a lot to post. Are they heavy?" and she leans over to lift one of the bags to test the weight.
"Not really" I say smiling at the sweetness of her.
"What are you posting, then?" she asks, lifting the second bag.
"It's squares for charity. I'm a teacher and the kids at school all learnt how to knit and now I'm posting them off to Soweto in South Africa to be made into blankets for AIDS orphans."
"Oh, you are lovely. Who taught them to knit?"
"I did."
"You knit? My daughters-in-law haven't a clue how to."
"I do knit - a lot actually. And yes - it seems very few people knit now adays."
"I'm looking for something to do. I'm retired now. I'm 72. I could knit. What do I need to do?"
I told her, gave her the address to post them too and chatted some more - about poverty, about the importance of the fortunate to help the unfortunate, about growing up in a third world country. Her name is Ruth. She was born and grew up in India. She has such lovely memories of growing up there and many of our experiences were similar - despite a generation and hemisphere gap.
We were both called to the next counter. When she was finished she walked passed me and said
"It's lovely that there are still angels in the world like you. I shall get home and get knitting."
I smiled and thanked her. And said that it was lovely to meet her. And she left on her way to knit.
It was lovely to meet her. I really enjoyed our chat and I wanted to know more about her childhood, her life.
I should have invited her for tea... but instead I smiled as she waved at me and walked out the door.
There be angels around us every day.
The old lady in front of me happened to turn around and see my baggage!
"Ooh. You've got a lot to post. Are they heavy?" and she leans over to lift one of the bags to test the weight.
"Not really" I say smiling at the sweetness of her.
"What are you posting, then?" she asks, lifting the second bag.
"It's squares for charity. I'm a teacher and the kids at school all learnt how to knit and now I'm posting them off to Soweto in South Africa to be made into blankets for AIDS orphans."
"Oh, you are lovely. Who taught them to knit?"
"I did."
"You knit? My daughters-in-law haven't a clue how to."
"I do knit - a lot actually. And yes - it seems very few people knit now adays."
"I'm looking for something to do. I'm retired now. I'm 72. I could knit. What do I need to do?"
I told her, gave her the address to post them too and chatted some more - about poverty, about the importance of the fortunate to help the unfortunate, about growing up in a third world country. Her name is Ruth. She was born and grew up in India. She has such lovely memories of growing up there and many of our experiences were similar - despite a generation and hemisphere gap.
We were both called to the next counter. When she was finished she walked passed me and said
"It's lovely that there are still angels in the world like you. I shall get home and get knitting."
I smiled and thanked her. And said that it was lovely to meet her. And she left on her way to knit.
It was lovely to meet her. I really enjoyed our chat and I wanted to know more about her childhood, her life.
I should have invited her for tea... but instead I smiled as she waved at me and walked out the door.
There be angels around us every day.
Thursday, 22 July 2010
remembering and thinking
My mother in law passed away when my husband and I had only been married for 8 months. Almost 3 years ago. Today I started sorting her photos, kept letters and diaries into better piles so we could put them in albums.
I miss her but I hardly knew her. She was devastated when my husband told her he was going to marry me - not necessarily because of me but because I dont think anyone could have been good enough for him. She cried through the wedding and afterwards kept crying and asking me look after him. It made me really sad. I know she was very attached to Austin - more so than her two older kids, and I know that they had been through a lot together but I wanted to be friends with her.
I looked at how my amazing, loving family scooped Austin up and loved him unconditionally, how they unquestioningly looked after him for 3 months while he wrote his thesis (and played with puppies!) My brother sees him as an older sibling and my extended family wrapped them in their love and within no time at all it was as if he'd always been there as a part of us.
But I wasn't going to be a part of his family. I wished she could smile and be happy for him. I wished she could love me. I wished she saw me as the person I am rather than the person taking her son away. I desperately wanted to be part of her life too.
During our honeymoon she collapsed and was taken to hospital to have her right kidney removed due to a massive tumour. We organised for her to go to a fantastic recovery home which had really good reviews. Only they treated her horribly. The day after she moved in the nurse complained to me that she kept asking for pain meds and she was only allowed them twice a day. The nurse was quite put out when I got cross - I knew she was in a great deal of pain - who wouldn't have been!? The next time we went to visit her, her arms and sides were covered with dark bruises from when they'd roughly given her a sponge bath. We complained, and then noticed that her hand cream, body lotion and face cloth were gone. Noone knew what had happened to them. The next day when we arrived, her face was swollen, she was tired and her lips and fingernails were blue. We called an emergency doctor who said she'd had a heart attack, he suspected the evening before. The nurses had ignored her pleas for help. We moved her out an hour later to a place which looked after her so well and she really began to recover.
But she never quite got there. She hardly ate and didn't put on weight. She was lonely and unhappy but wouldn't move to another care home closer to family. We wrote to her and sent her gifts from across the world but she didn't get better. Eventually Austin got the call to come home. For the next month he single-handedly nursed her as she got weaker and weaker. I was stuck at work - not being allowed time off can you believe! One day Austin phoned and said that one of her friends thought she was hanging on so she could talk to me so Austin held the phone to her ear and I talked to her. I told her I loved her, that I wished that I was there with her and that I would love Austin forever so she didn't have to worry about him at all! But by then she was too weak to talk and in her attempts to say something to me became frantic and desperate. I wish I'd told her that I'd understood - even though I didn't.
Two days later she passed away quietly while my husband held her hand.
I miss her. But I think that it's not really her I miss. I miss the potential of her. I miss not having had a good relationship with her. I miss never having the chance to have tea with her and chat about nothing in particular. I miss the fact that I will never have any parents in law. And I miss her even more when I see Austin's pain at the loss of her and I wish beyond anything else that I could make it better.
I miss her but I hardly knew her. She was devastated when my husband told her he was going to marry me - not necessarily because of me but because I dont think anyone could have been good enough for him. She cried through the wedding and afterwards kept crying and asking me look after him. It made me really sad. I know she was very attached to Austin - more so than her two older kids, and I know that they had been through a lot together but I wanted to be friends with her.
I looked at how my amazing, loving family scooped Austin up and loved him unconditionally, how they unquestioningly looked after him for 3 months while he wrote his thesis (and played with puppies!) My brother sees him as an older sibling and my extended family wrapped them in their love and within no time at all it was as if he'd always been there as a part of us.
But I wasn't going to be a part of his family. I wished she could smile and be happy for him. I wished she could love me. I wished she saw me as the person I am rather than the person taking her son away. I desperately wanted to be part of her life too.
During our honeymoon she collapsed and was taken to hospital to have her right kidney removed due to a massive tumour. We organised for her to go to a fantastic recovery home which had really good reviews. Only they treated her horribly. The day after she moved in the nurse complained to me that she kept asking for pain meds and she was only allowed them twice a day. The nurse was quite put out when I got cross - I knew she was in a great deal of pain - who wouldn't have been!? The next time we went to visit her, her arms and sides were covered with dark bruises from when they'd roughly given her a sponge bath. We complained, and then noticed that her hand cream, body lotion and face cloth were gone. Noone knew what had happened to them. The next day when we arrived, her face was swollen, she was tired and her lips and fingernails were blue. We called an emergency doctor who said she'd had a heart attack, he suspected the evening before. The nurses had ignored her pleas for help. We moved her out an hour later to a place which looked after her so well and she really began to recover.
But she never quite got there. She hardly ate and didn't put on weight. She was lonely and unhappy but wouldn't move to another care home closer to family. We wrote to her and sent her gifts from across the world but she didn't get better. Eventually Austin got the call to come home. For the next month he single-handedly nursed her as she got weaker and weaker. I was stuck at work - not being allowed time off can you believe! One day Austin phoned and said that one of her friends thought she was hanging on so she could talk to me so Austin held the phone to her ear and I talked to her. I told her I loved her, that I wished that I was there with her and that I would love Austin forever so she didn't have to worry about him at all! But by then she was too weak to talk and in her attempts to say something to me became frantic and desperate. I wish I'd told her that I'd understood - even though I didn't.
Two days later she passed away quietly while my husband held her hand.
I miss her. But I think that it's not really her I miss. I miss the potential of her. I miss not having had a good relationship with her. I miss never having the chance to have tea with her and chat about nothing in particular. I miss the fact that I will never have any parents in law. And I miss her even more when I see Austin's pain at the loss of her and I wish beyond anything else that I could make it better.
Saturday, 3 July 2010
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