At approximately 2.15pm she left this world.
She wasn't a particularly easy woman to get along with, however, she was still my grandmother, and my life will not be the same without her. To be sure, the end of an era has come.
Every so often I visit this blog:
http://bensgotcancer.blogspot.com/search?updated-min=2008-01-01T00%3A00%3A00%2B11%3A00&updated-max=2009-01-01T00%3A00%3A00%2B11%3A00&max-results=50
I only met this young man once, but it is a conversation I will never forget. His story inspires me beyond comprehension to live my life to its fullest measure.
I find death an odd concept. This afternoon when I went to the hospital to say my final farewell, all that lay in front of me was a vacant body. The illumination that our spirits so graciously bestow upon us was simply absent. The spirit is not tangible, but ever so present in a living being. To ignore it would be to subsist in a world of denial. However, even with the beliefs I have about the afterlife, the first question that came to mind regarding her vacant body was: "where did she go?"
"They say in death, all of life's questions are answered." (Charlie's Angels) It seems however, that for the people remaining on the earth, death spurs on the raising of so many questions, including all the 'what ifs,' 'maybes' and 'I wonder whats' regarding that particular person and their life. I wonder about all the years before my time, and what she would have been like as a young woman, studying through high-school, getting married, having her babies, and meeting her children's spouses, and eventually meeting her grandchildren. I wonder why she was so proud, so particular, so proper. I wonder what she did on the many nights she spent alone, after my grandfather had passed away, and what her thought process was like.
The day someone dies is surreal. It reiterates the fact that no one lasts forever. That all the importance we put upon looking good and achieving marvellous feats and making our millions of dollars will one day become deeply insignificant. Death changes everything. Death laughs at secularity, at the world's concept of life and success. Death brings perspective up close and personal, forcing one to examine one's actions in a major way. Because death is finite and completely unavoidable.
Here be my ode to Gar:
She was the woman with the bright pink lipstick. The aquamarine eye shadow. The Salvatore Ferragamo shoes. The long navy skirt, the sprightly pink polo.
She floated into the room with her lady-like pace, handbag in place, hairdo intact.
Then came the anticipated "Hello Darlinksa," accompanied by a peck on the cheek.
She may be been opinionated, full of fire, and unaccustomed (willingly, I might add), to the more modern technology of our time, there is one one particular instance of love and benevolence that will remain my fondest memory of Gar. It was only a short six months ago, when the majority of my family had embarked on our overseas journey, but I was yet to depart, and still remained at home. It was a particularly low point in my life, which, without going into too much denial, was a time of great unrest and anxiety. I had been quite teary on that particular day she had called, and immediately she knew something was not right. I was very hesitant to discuss the details of my complex issues with her, and sensing this divide, after a long moment of stammering about this and that on my part, she gallantly exclaimed "Well, darling, if you get desperate, or just don't feel that you can cope, I'll get you up here!"
In the instance of "here" she was Armidale, the town in northern New South Wales in which she lived.
I'll never forget these words, and the deep love with which they were proclaimed. I will be forever grateful to her for giving me the most wonderful father I could have asked for. She will always remain in my heart as a strong, exceptionally capable and dignified woman.
So this here, Garfish, is for you. With all my love.
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