Sad times for Martin, not to be read if you are fragile
On Sunday the phonecall came - time was short and would Martin and his brother Rodney come over from Western Australia to Queensland. Their mother wanted to look at them and say goodbye to each son before she closed her eyes.
And tonight she died. Martin was with her by himself for most of the day. He rubbed her feet and held her hand and told her how much he loved her. She was beyond replying, and in the evening her breathing grew more laboured. I've been expecting it, reading widely to support them all with knowledge, but still, when he said 'Mum's dead' in our third phonecall of the day it was such a shock.
Sam was asleep - I've him to tell in the morning, and he is likely to respond more emotionally than Tim and Raf, as he's done throughout. Tim simply said - I'm happy nothing is hurting her, but I'm really sad she's died'. He's twelve and he doesn't want to cry. All my sons have so much of her - with Tim it is his grace of movement and indifference to other people's opinions (just like his Dad).
Rafi looks very like her and has that mix of 'company charm' together with the ability to be very contented with his own company too. One of Raf's favorite books is 'Jungle Drums' by Graeme Base- and I've been using this to convey to him my beliefs about how family members who have died remain 'just out of sight but still there' - a very grandmotherly wildebeest appears once and then 'fades into the bushes' but remains, hidden in the details of the natural world, on every page. The similarity of names helps 'Bubu' and "Nyumbu'. We've lost five pet goats over summer, and so death, while not something he understands (hell, who does) , is something he knows happens.
My mother-in-law was a genius in her own way. She was the best demonstration of 'your thoughts create your reality' imaginable. She thought about life differently to the rest of us, and the most extraordinary things were always happening around her. Two years ago she needed a new passport. The new passport rules for photographs are tediously clear - no glasses, no decorations in hair. The passport photo she sent had her with the biggest grin and a hibiscus flower of equal size in wild hair. The family tried to dissuade her from sending it; but she told them they worried too much. What happened? It was accepted - and, Megan tells me, it should not have been. But that was the kind of thing that always happened around her. The rules she couldn't see bent away from her like panicked snakes.
She could fluoresce the world with emotion. When she was anticipating a treat her eyes would widen with excitement and mischief: and everything was suddenly sparkly, colours were new-minted and the empty air filled with jewelled confetti. When she was sad the air was drenched with her grief. Her world was filled with portents and wonders - as was ours when with her.
She loved to tease her children. A particular joy was embarassing them in public. Not being her child I found this absolutely hilarious. Her daughter Minnie had just started work in a new workplace in the Torres Strait, and had been asked to put together a team to row a canoe in charity event. Minnie had carefully selected her team. On the day of the race, Mum, her hair put up into pigtales and in traditional dress, demanded to be included on the team. She began walking up down the beach miming rowing and saying 'let me show these young people how to row, daughter'. She was using her special walk that sent all her children into paroxyms of embarrassment, bum twitching and going up onto her toes. "Mum, stop it, there isn't room for you, etc." came from Minnie. Martin, on this occasion, was laughing hard, most unfair as just a couple of day's before she'd had him trying on enormous pink shirts in front of a group of giggling elderly ladies. I wonder if this particular tease was also to teach that the opinions of others should be ignored?
It is in these ways that Sam is most like her - the contagious emotions, the incorrigible and uncontainable urge to embarrass family members,.
It has been such a privilege to be her daughter-in-law. I shall be looking for the times that bureacratic obstacles melt before her grandchildren - the moments when the air vibrates and colours with emotion - and for the synchroncities she so easily found...and I'll know she's visiting.