Sunday night in Darlinghurst proved to be quite different from the weekend and those nights and mornings leading up to it. There was a marked contrast in the street noise level and after a pre-bedtime glass of wine or perhaps two and a little TV watching with Candi I retired to my room after my self-prescribed 1 Advil PM. Candi lent me a book she purchased at Vinnie's earlier in the day, "7th Heaven" by James Patterson. I picked it up and found it to be a mindless light novel just at the limit of my concentration, about all I could handle. As I read a couple of the very short chapters and felt myself nodding off, I placed the book on the nightstand, appropriately rumpled up the duvet and pillows and endeavored to get some sleep. I had given the newly purchased mobile phone to Candi for the night as she had instructed Shawn to phone her, no matter the time, when Tanner awoke for his 7th birthday. Although she couldn't be there, she at least wanted to be able to sing "Happy Birthday" to him when his day began because he was surely missing her on this, his biggest day of the year. If Tanner rose at 8 a.m. in California that would be 2 a.m. Sydney time. She wouldn't mind, she told me, she was used to odd sleeping hours in any event due to her job as a police officer and the reality of shift work.
While I was aware of the occasional car door slamming on the street below my window and the off/on rain drops on the metal roof I achieved at least a few hours of dreamless sleep. Since I had given up my new phone for the night, I switched on my U.S. based android phone, just for the clock, so I could evaluate when it was an acceptable time to leave my bed. It must have been the 3rd or 4th time I checked the phone's display that I decided, since it was now past 3:30 a.m., I would give myself permission to head downstairs to begin my morning routine. It struck me that I must have achieved some level of sleep as I had no recollection of hearing Candi speaking with Shawn and Tanner in the middle of the night. I remembered that Geoff's obituary would be in the Sydney Morning Herald that day and made a mental note to make sure I picked up some copies of the paper when I went out for my sunrise stroll around the neighborhood. Since I knew that Mitzi was in Orange County and would be attending Tanner's birthday party at the Boomer's amusement park I had planned to catch up with her later in the day so she could fill me in on the details.
While sipping my coffee I tried to mentally catalog all the things we needed to handle this day. I had not had an opportunity to speak with Jo yet about her sense that Geoff "knew"; I wanted to have that conversation the next time I saw her. We were to be directed to a different priest that would conduct Geoff's service and would want to meet with him as soon as we could. Melissa and Jo had been working on the booklet for distribution at the service and the printing of that piece needed to be arranged. Robin and I were to meet with Geoff's hematologist that afternoon and I rehearsed the questions for which I wanted answers. There was a slide presentation that was to be shown at the wake following the service that Robin's neighbor, Stephen, was preparing and he still needed our input to finish that off. In stark contrast to our leisurely Sunday in the countryside at Luke's, Monday was setting up to be a quite busy day.
When I figured I could leave the townhouse so as to arrive at the nearby convenience store for their 6 a.m. opening I stepped out onto Taylor Street. Opposite the activity of the past few mornings the street was bustling with residents attired in work clothing making their way to their vehicles, buses or the train station waiting to deliver them to their places of employment. Most of the men were dressed in business suits, the women had the look of occupants of professional offices. It struck me that the throngs that inhabited Darlinghurst on weekend nights and early mornings was imported from other suburbs around Sydney. The locals all looked to be far too professional and serious to be involved in the shenanigans I could only imagine ocurred behind the neon lighted doorways of the business district.
I jaywalked across Flinders to the Coles Express store and grabbed 4 copies of the Sydney Morning Herald. I tucked them under my arm after I paid $6 for the privilege and declined the clerk's suggestion that I purchase gum or candy to go along with the papers. The paper is quite large and unwieldy compared to those we are used to in California so I decided to forgo looking for the announcement until I was back inside the unit. I dodged the now busy vehicle traffic mirroring my earlier steps and reentered the townhouse. I sat down at the dining room table with one copy of the voluminous Monday morning edition of the Sydney Morning Herald and began to search for the vital statistics announcements.
I spread the paper out over the dining room table. The Sydney Morning Herald is almost twice as wide as an American paper and on this day was all in one section. I believe its printed this way to make it easier to read on the train but I could have conjured that up in my mind. When holding the newspaper in its fully open position it nearly takes the extension of ones arms to their full limit. All the news that was fit to print on 11 October, 2010 fit into 22 pages of The Sydney Morning Herald. On the front page was a story about the decision to conduct a 4th Coronial Inquest into the death of Azaria Chamberlain. Azaria Chamberlain was a 9 1/2 week old baby that her parents say was taken by dingoes while camping in the Northern Territories in 1980. Here we are, 30 years later, and its still front page news. When I first started travelling to Australia about the same time she disappeared it was in the headlines then and this story was confirming that in the 30 years since she first went missing they haven't yet been able to figure it out. I started flipping through the pages and came across an article about the inordinate number of weddings that occurred in New South Wales the previous day, 10/10/10, and that many of the wedded couples were Chinese due to a cultural belief that repeating numbers bring good luck. Finally, I found the section of the newspaper that was to contain the notification. After the stories about the Aussie dollar being on par with the U.S. currency, the son of the North Korean dictator being seen in public, the publisher of Playboy magazine in Indonesia being imprisoned for publishing indiscretions, Facebook changing the way information is disseminated; After the Entertainment section touting current theatrical performances, concerts and films; After the Classified advertisements and a page devoted to educational issues; Immediately after a section that was an entire page requesting bids and proposals for various government contracts I found the section on page 19 entitled PERSONAL NOTICES with the sub-heading Death & Funerals. There, in alphabetical order, were the printed words no parent was ever meant to read.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Monday, November 29, 2010
Luke's, Arcadia, NSW
When we returned from our walk Candi and I took turns showering and getting dressed for the trip to Luke and Anita's home in Arcadia. Robin and Melissa picked us up at the townhouse at the pre-arranged time and we made the 1 hour trip out to Luke's uneventfully. It was a nice ride through the countryside, including a tour through the Ku-ring-gai Chase National Park. Given the remoteness of the property I was questioning my own resolve to make that drive into the city every day as Anita does for her job in the fashion industry before I grew tired of the commute. Luke has it somewhat easier in that he is an outside sales person and has the ability to do work from home as well as plan his ventures around the formidable Sydney traffic, nonetheless, the beauty and remoteness of their their home certainly comes with a price. We were the first to arrive and we were closely followed by Maggie and Shirley. Jeanette and her boyfriend, Frank, appeared soon after. Shirley Stanley's sister, Marie Sullivan arrived with her husband John about an hour after we had. Of course, they made a point to express their sorrow and shock upon learning of Geoff's death to me in a most compassionate way while we were walking around the property and related stories about the last time they had seen Geoff.
Luke and Anita have 2 children: Layla, their daughter, who is in her mid-teens and Luke-Jon, a son, just entering his teenage years. Layla has a particular love of horses and Luke and Anita purchased this home with acreage in the country in order to keep Layla's beautiful horse along with a menagerie of other creatures, including a feisty Shetland Pony. Luke-Jon's interest seemed to lie more in indoor activities such as video games and using the computer. Along with Geoff and Melissa, Laila and Luke-Jon comprise all of Shirley Stanley's grandchildren. Luke proudly took us on a tour of the property and introduced us to the animals before attending to the barbecue on the patio deck. The weather was perfect for an outdoor gathering and the group snacked on delicious appetizers prepared by Anita and the bounty from Luke's Barbee. There was plenty of beer and wine for those that wanted, which if my memory serves me correctly was everyone of age.
After spending a pleasant time at the home in Arcadia we said farewell to Luke's family and all the other attendees as Robin, Melissa, Candi and I headed out before dark for the return trip to Darlinghurst. It was a quiet ride as we were all likely exhausted from the events of the past days as well as the afternoon in the sun. We discussed some of the final details of the booklet for Geoff's service and recounted our schedule for the next day. Robin told us that she had contacted her friend that worked in the office at Our Lady of Fatima and she had promised to arrange an alternative for a priest to conduct Geoff's service as well as put us in contact with Sister Mary, who Melissa knew from her days at the St. Ursula School in Kingsgrove. Robin expected we would hear from them the following day, Monday. We also were scheduled to visit with Dr. Phillip Choi at St. George Hospital Medical Center to discuss his perspective on Geoff's death in the late afternoon on Monday. Dr. Choi was the associate of Dr. Michael Harvey and Dr. Choi had most recently seen Geoff on September 30. Dr. Harvey was Geoff's primary doctor (hematologist) related to his treatment and follow up for Hodgkin Lymphoma. Apparently Dr. Harvey was out of the country at a symposium and Dr. Choi had agreed to meet with us on his behalf. Knowing we were going to have a busy time the next day we were happy to have an early night.
Luke and Anita have 2 children: Layla, their daughter, who is in her mid-teens and Luke-Jon, a son, just entering his teenage years. Layla has a particular love of horses and Luke and Anita purchased this home with acreage in the country in order to keep Layla's beautiful horse along with a menagerie of other creatures, including a feisty Shetland Pony. Luke-Jon's interest seemed to lie more in indoor activities such as video games and using the computer. Along with Geoff and Melissa, Laila and Luke-Jon comprise all of Shirley Stanley's grandchildren. Luke proudly took us on a tour of the property and introduced us to the animals before attending to the barbecue on the patio deck. The weather was perfect for an outdoor gathering and the group snacked on delicious appetizers prepared by Anita and the bounty from Luke's Barbee. There was plenty of beer and wine for those that wanted, which if my memory serves me correctly was everyone of age.
After spending a pleasant time at the home in Arcadia we said farewell to Luke's family and all the other attendees as Robin, Melissa, Candi and I headed out before dark for the return trip to Darlinghurst. It was a quiet ride as we were all likely exhausted from the events of the past days as well as the afternoon in the sun. We discussed some of the final details of the booklet for Geoff's service and recounted our schedule for the next day. Robin told us that she had contacted her friend that worked in the office at Our Lady of Fatima and she had promised to arrange an alternative for a priest to conduct Geoff's service as well as put us in contact with Sister Mary, who Melissa knew from her days at the St. Ursula School in Kingsgrove. Robin expected we would hear from them the following day, Monday. We also were scheduled to visit with Dr. Phillip Choi at St. George Hospital Medical Center to discuss his perspective on Geoff's death in the late afternoon on Monday. Dr. Choi was the associate of Dr. Michael Harvey and Dr. Choi had most recently seen Geoff on September 30. Dr. Harvey was Geoff's primary doctor (hematologist) related to his treatment and follow up for Hodgkin Lymphoma. Apparently Dr. Harvey was out of the country at a symposium and Dr. Choi had agreed to meet with us on his behalf. Knowing we were going to have a busy time the next day we were happy to have an early night.
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| Map showing Bexley North, Kingsgrove, Darlinghurst, Paddington and Arcadia (top) relative to Sydney proper |
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Paddington Sunday
I awoke well before dawn on the Sunday morning as had been my routine. When I fell asleep a few hours before I had this vivid recollection of Geoff standing in the doorway of my room at the 4 Points Sheraton in Darling Harbour. The last time I had been to Sydney was July, 2009 and Geoff was so good to make sure he met up with Mitzi and me nearly every evening for dinner. Knowing he would take the train to the Town Hall station from North Sydney where he worked at Zlata Creative Design and then walk the 3 or 4 blocks to our hotel I always had a good idea of when he would appear but never exactly. I would leave the door to our room ajar using the metal security lock as a jamb so he could just come in when he arrived. Typically I would be sitting on the sofa watching the evening news and he would appear with his bag slung over his shoulder, sporting the biggest grin possible. I would always get up and walk to the treshhold and we would hug each other as was our custom. If he wasn't happy to see me he was an incredible actor.
As I climbed out from under the blankets and slipped on my socks I still had the vision of him in that doorway fresh in my consciousness. I have been told that I communicate with my eyes as much as with words and Geoff definitely inherited that trait. The image I have of Geoff in that hotel room entrance says "Dad, I'm happy you are here. I'm happy to be here and I'm happy we are together" although he maybe never said those exact words, I knew what he was thinking just by looking into his beautiful green eyes. I made my way down the staircase with my now usual caution and that memory locked in. As I prepared the espresso press for the first eye opening cup I couldn't shut off the recall; I wanted to keep that memory as vivid and fresh in my mind for as long as possible. I sat down at my regular spot and spent the next 45 minutes or so lost in my wonderful memories of Geoff. It was beginning to sink in that was all I had left of him. At some point my pleasant recollection dissolved into the bottomless pit of regret. Regret that I hadn't pushed him earlier in the year to make another trip to California or perhaps to meet up in Hawaii. When I brought up the idea to him of travelling in 2010 he rationalized that he was saving his money for "a deposit" which I presumed to be for a house or apartment of his own. It struck me at the time that I was proud of him when he told me that. Now I'm thinking how ironic and sad it is that he was saving his money for anything given the events of the past week. No amount of tears were going to bring him back, my intellect told me, but I tried like hell.
Just before dawn, as had become my routine, I grabbed my jacket and mobile phone and headed straight to the pocket bark-park so as to avoid the Darlinghurst partiers stumbling homeward. Candi was still sleeping and wouldn't stir until I disturbed her. I reached the park on that misty morning uneventfully and phoned Mitzi at home since it was Saturday in California. I related the events of the previous day including the fiasco at Our Lady of Fatima. I told her about our walk home and what I described to her as my "misbehaving". She listened to me and only provided words of support and caring love. She told me she was headed to Orange County (about a 2 hour drive) and would spend the night at her son's home in Irvine and then attend Tanner's birthday party the next day. Tanner is Candi's son, my grandson, and he was to have is 7th birthday on October 10, a day that also happened to be my parents 58th wedding anniversary. I thought that was a good idea and told her so. I was imagining how helpless she must be feeling, only able to know what was happening at this most difficult time in our lives through these daily phone conversations.
After the phone call I headed to the grocery store passing a group at the corner of Oxford Street and Flinders singing football songs at top volume in the increasing day light. A council employee was hosing off the sidewalk in front of the club from where they must have just retreated as a number of homeless people were attempting to sleep in the midst of all the commotion on a small plot of grass referred to by locals as "The Island". The contradiction struck me; the young men bellowing on the street after a night of partying probably had beds waiting for them at home which would have been a much more appropriate place for them at this early hour and the group sleeping next to all their worldly possessions on the common plot of turf in lieu of a bed were attempting to do so in spite of the noise.
I made my pass through the grocery store picking up a few needed items and stopped at the internet cafe to check my email before returning to the townhouse. I boiled some water in the kettle then headed up the stairway to awaken Candi. We discussed the relative value of the sleep we had the night before over our espresso and then decided to set out to explore the neighborhood known as Paddington in the opposite direction of where we had heretofor been walking. We figured we could get some breakfast at one of the sidewalk cafes that seemed to be everywhere.
Making a right hand turn on Oxford Street after we walked to the end of Taylor Street we started our trek through Paddington. In contrast to the neighborhoods we encountered when walking toward Hyde Park and the City Center, Paddington was quite gentrified and quaint. The shops seemed friendlier and trendier. We encountered Victoria Barracks not too long after we started our journey. Victoria Barracks was built in the 1840's and is still used as a military installation to this day. There was a guard posted at the gate on Oxford Street and we inquired about the current use of the facility which he explained was primarily for Australian Army offices and support services but that occasionally there are situations where active duty members of the Army occupy the grounds. He then invited us inside the gates to take a look at the facility while informing us that any kind of formal tour would require a reservation and the payment of a fee. We took a quick look inside, thanked him and continued on our way remarking to each other how unlikely it would be for similar treatment at a U.S. military installation.
After another 45 minutes, or so, we decided we were hungry and looked for a suitable cafe. Candi was convinced we needed to find a place that was busy in order to be assured that the food would be good. We happened upon a tiny place with small metal tables inside and out that was nearly packed with what appeared to be a cycling group out for their weekend ride. She gave this place her nod of approval and we ventured inside to find a place to sit. Occupying a too small table tucked in the corner we sat patiently waiting for the service personnel to notice us. After a few minutes of observation we concluded that to stay in our seats would only insure our hunger and Candi approached a 50ish looking woman with an incredibly deep voice that gave off the air of ownership to place our order. We had predetermined what we would be eating from the single menu on our table and after serving us coffee the presumed proprietor returned a short time later with our selections; mine was the smoked salmon, capers and toasted bagel with cream cheese. Candi had the meusli, yogurt and fruit. My food was excellent but I found myself with the type of envy one assumes when a fellow diner ordered what you should have. Knowing Candi never eats anything close to all the food on her plate and seeing how impressed she was with the meal, I was able to taste enough of her breakfast to know that when we returned, which we most surely would, exactly what I would have that next time.
Once we replaced all the calories we burned off on the walk to the cafe we paid our bill and headed back to Darlinghurst by the same route but on the opposite side of the street. We came upon a shop, "Vinnies" that had the look of a thrift store. Candi had been remarking about the shoes she bought the previous day with Jeanette and that on reflection they were more expensive than she was hoping. Wouldn't it be perfect if she could find a pair of shoes to match her dress in the thrift shop and then she could return both pairs she had purchased? "Vinnies" is apparently a local institution, the primary beneficiary being the St. Vincent de Paul Society and the proceeds are used for their various good works. She completed her socially conscious shopping snagging 2 pair of shoes and a book for less than 1/2 the cost of one of the pairs of shoes she had purchased at the mall. Candi was quite pleased and we made the rest of the walk back to the townhouse without any additional purchases, although the quest for bargains was constant.
As we sauntered back to Taylor Street I was thinking how great this opportunity was to be able to spend this time with my adult daughter unfiltered by the reality of our complicated daily lives back in California even though it was occurring under the most difficult circumstances possible. Just like the discordant revelers early this morning celebrating their consumption of way too much beer by singing lullabies to the homeless on "The Island" the joy of being able to spend this alone time with my daughter while mourning the death of my only son made no sense; then again, it made every bit of sense there was.
As I climbed out from under the blankets and slipped on my socks I still had the vision of him in that doorway fresh in my consciousness. I have been told that I communicate with my eyes as much as with words and Geoff definitely inherited that trait. The image I have of Geoff in that hotel room entrance says "Dad, I'm happy you are here. I'm happy to be here and I'm happy we are together" although he maybe never said those exact words, I knew what he was thinking just by looking into his beautiful green eyes. I made my way down the staircase with my now usual caution and that memory locked in. As I prepared the espresso press for the first eye opening cup I couldn't shut off the recall; I wanted to keep that memory as vivid and fresh in my mind for as long as possible. I sat down at my regular spot and spent the next 45 minutes or so lost in my wonderful memories of Geoff. It was beginning to sink in that was all I had left of him. At some point my pleasant recollection dissolved into the bottomless pit of regret. Regret that I hadn't pushed him earlier in the year to make another trip to California or perhaps to meet up in Hawaii. When I brought up the idea to him of travelling in 2010 he rationalized that he was saving his money for "a deposit" which I presumed to be for a house or apartment of his own. It struck me at the time that I was proud of him when he told me that. Now I'm thinking how ironic and sad it is that he was saving his money for anything given the events of the past week. No amount of tears were going to bring him back, my intellect told me, but I tried like hell.
Just before dawn, as had become my routine, I grabbed my jacket and mobile phone and headed straight to the pocket bark-park so as to avoid the Darlinghurst partiers stumbling homeward. Candi was still sleeping and wouldn't stir until I disturbed her. I reached the park on that misty morning uneventfully and phoned Mitzi at home since it was Saturday in California. I related the events of the previous day including the fiasco at Our Lady of Fatima. I told her about our walk home and what I described to her as my "misbehaving". She listened to me and only provided words of support and caring love. She told me she was headed to Orange County (about a 2 hour drive) and would spend the night at her son's home in Irvine and then attend Tanner's birthday party the next day. Tanner is Candi's son, my grandson, and he was to have is 7th birthday on October 10, a day that also happened to be my parents 58th wedding anniversary. I thought that was a good idea and told her so. I was imagining how helpless she must be feeling, only able to know what was happening at this most difficult time in our lives through these daily phone conversations.
After the phone call I headed to the grocery store passing a group at the corner of Oxford Street and Flinders singing football songs at top volume in the increasing day light. A council employee was hosing off the sidewalk in front of the club from where they must have just retreated as a number of homeless people were attempting to sleep in the midst of all the commotion on a small plot of grass referred to by locals as "The Island". The contradiction struck me; the young men bellowing on the street after a night of partying probably had beds waiting for them at home which would have been a much more appropriate place for them at this early hour and the group sleeping next to all their worldly possessions on the common plot of turf in lieu of a bed were attempting to do so in spite of the noise.
I made my pass through the grocery store picking up a few needed items and stopped at the internet cafe to check my email before returning to the townhouse. I boiled some water in the kettle then headed up the stairway to awaken Candi. We discussed the relative value of the sleep we had the night before over our espresso and then decided to set out to explore the neighborhood known as Paddington in the opposite direction of where we had heretofor been walking. We figured we could get some breakfast at one of the sidewalk cafes that seemed to be everywhere.
Making a right hand turn on Oxford Street after we walked to the end of Taylor Street we started our trek through Paddington. In contrast to the neighborhoods we encountered when walking toward Hyde Park and the City Center, Paddington was quite gentrified and quaint. The shops seemed friendlier and trendier. We encountered Victoria Barracks not too long after we started our journey. Victoria Barracks was built in the 1840's and is still used as a military installation to this day. There was a guard posted at the gate on Oxford Street and we inquired about the current use of the facility which he explained was primarily for Australian Army offices and support services but that occasionally there are situations where active duty members of the Army occupy the grounds. He then invited us inside the gates to take a look at the facility while informing us that any kind of formal tour would require a reservation and the payment of a fee. We took a quick look inside, thanked him and continued on our way remarking to each other how unlikely it would be for similar treatment at a U.S. military installation.
After another 45 minutes, or so, we decided we were hungry and looked for a suitable cafe. Candi was convinced we needed to find a place that was busy in order to be assured that the food would be good. We happened upon a tiny place with small metal tables inside and out that was nearly packed with what appeared to be a cycling group out for their weekend ride. She gave this place her nod of approval and we ventured inside to find a place to sit. Occupying a too small table tucked in the corner we sat patiently waiting for the service personnel to notice us. After a few minutes of observation we concluded that to stay in our seats would only insure our hunger and Candi approached a 50ish looking woman with an incredibly deep voice that gave off the air of ownership to place our order. We had predetermined what we would be eating from the single menu on our table and after serving us coffee the presumed proprietor returned a short time later with our selections; mine was the smoked salmon, capers and toasted bagel with cream cheese. Candi had the meusli, yogurt and fruit. My food was excellent but I found myself with the type of envy one assumes when a fellow diner ordered what you should have. Knowing Candi never eats anything close to all the food on her plate and seeing how impressed she was with the meal, I was able to taste enough of her breakfast to know that when we returned, which we most surely would, exactly what I would have that next time.
Once we replaced all the calories we burned off on the walk to the cafe we paid our bill and headed back to Darlinghurst by the same route but on the opposite side of the street. We came upon a shop, "Vinnies" that had the look of a thrift store. Candi had been remarking about the shoes she bought the previous day with Jeanette and that on reflection they were more expensive than she was hoping. Wouldn't it be perfect if she could find a pair of shoes to match her dress in the thrift shop and then she could return both pairs she had purchased? "Vinnies" is apparently a local institution, the primary beneficiary being the St. Vincent de Paul Society and the proceeds are used for their various good works. She completed her socially conscious shopping snagging 2 pair of shoes and a book for less than 1/2 the cost of one of the pairs of shoes she had purchased at the mall. Candi was quite pleased and we made the rest of the walk back to the townhouse without any additional purchases, although the quest for bargains was constant.
As we sauntered back to Taylor Street I was thinking how great this opportunity was to be able to spend this time with my adult daughter unfiltered by the reality of our complicated daily lives back in California even though it was occurring under the most difficult circumstances possible. Just like the discordant revelers early this morning celebrating their consumption of way too much beer by singing lullabies to the homeless on "The Island" the joy of being able to spend this alone time with my daughter while mourning the death of my only son made no sense; then again, it made every bit of sense there was.
Saturday, November 27, 2010
Walking to Bexley North
I had not brought a jacket when we left for the appointment at Our Lady of Fatima as it was a relatively warm afternoon and I just didn't think much about it. As we started our walk home it was immediately obvious that the darkness had brought much cooler temperatures. Robin, Melissa and I started out briskly toward Bexley North. They knew full well the route we would take; I didn't have a clue. Although Robin and I had divorced over 15 years earlier she apparently still had good intuition about how I was feeling which no doubt manifested itself in her suggestion for walking back to the house. Being relatively early on a Saturday evening there was a fair amount of traffic in the streets filled with locals bringing home take away food or the babysitter or headed out to a movie or returning from their shopping excursions. The wind had started up which added to the nippiness.
As is her style, Robin said nothing and I started feeling that some sort of apology for my obvious dissatisfaction during our meeting that was just concluded at OLF was in order. As we moved along the city streets I started to speak and I felt the frustration of the last few days well up inside of me combined with the anger and sorrow about the death of my son and the lack of knowledge as to the reason he was no longer with us. I began a diatribe of which I have very little memory of the details but primarily my loss of emotional control. I do remember at one point extolling the ludicrousness of what had become a pointless question in my mind "What would Geoff want?". I think I screamed at the top of my lungs that the only thing Geoff would want was to be among us, walking down that street, sharing his stories of the day and that all these other attempts at determining what our son and brother would have wanted after he died were futile; that what we were determining was not what Geoff would want but what we think he would want if we were him (which we certainly were not) because we couldn't ask him and there was no possible way to know if we were correct. Because he was gone and we didn't know why and because he had left us all alone and he never said goodbye.
At least twice during the walk home Melissa stopped me from stepping in front of incoming traffic at roundabouts, not because I wanted to do anything drastic but my current level of distraction didn't account for the cars coming from the opposite direction to which I was used. At one point she told me to follow her and not walk in front. I'm sure the 1 1/2 miles turned into more than 3 and that Robin and Melissa herded me up and down streets that in no way led directly to Robin's place in Bexley North. I found myself shivering from the coldness and the emotion but not always at the same time. At one point Robin took control of the dialogue; "We will find someone else to conduct Geoff's service. We have a friend that does volunteer work in the office and we'll ring her. I'm sure she can help us get someone else." These were calming words to my fractured perception and I found myself starting to breathe normally again. Yes, we'll get someone else. I was thinking rationally again. We'll call the office at OLF and they will find someone else that will do a better job. I then saw the familiar porch light of the little house in Bexley North. Robin's dented car was in the driveway, the garage was just how we left it. I had no idea how long we had been walking.
We wiped our feet before entering the much warmer confines and found Candi, Jo and Mag preparing dinner in the kitchen. A gluten free, vegetarian pasta dish for Candi (that we all tried and surprised ourselves as to its tastiness) along with other noodle based dishes provided by our many supporters, a nice salad and more of the endless, tasty dishes prepared and sent over by JoJo's mother. We broke out the wine and I know I started to feel better but certainly not normal. We agreed that after dinner Robin would take us back to our townhouse and Mag and Melissa would come along for the ride, so that Maggie could see first hand the accommodation, since she had heard all the stories. We compared notes about where we were with our individual assignments related to the upcoming Wednesday deadline and shared more memories about Geoff that had entered our consciousness since the previous evening.
After the dishes were cleaned we piled into the dented automobile and with the vibration noise that we now found quite funny headed off toward Darlinghurst in the rain. It was Saturday night so we knew the traffic would be thick. Since we had each other's company and although the ride was longer than normal it seemed quicker than the actual time. Robin dropped us at the front of the unit and drove away to find a parking spot which were in even shorter supply. Melissa and Maggie came inside with Candi and me and we gave them the tour of the downstairs. In a few minutes Robin knocked and we let her inside. We inquired as to who would be interested in attempting the adventure of making the climb up and then the descent of the dreaded staircase. Maggie and Melissa were both up to it and I caught them each leaning on the brick wall as they went upstairs to see the bedrooms. As they turned to navigate the downward portion Maggie chose to make the treacherous trip on the seat of her pants, one step at a time. This gave us all another bit of comic relief.
We had a couple bottles of wine that I purchased at a bottle shop on Oxford Street and we sat around the dining table for a short while with our drinks and talking about the good and not so good things of our situation there in Darlinghurst. On balance, the benefits far outweighed the negatives of either the location or physical challenges of Candi and my temporary "home". We recognized that it was getting late and agreed that since we were headed to Luke's home for our outing the following day (Sunday) Robin would pick us up around Noon. Candi and I liked that idea as it would give us some time to explore some of the other neighborhoods around us. We said goodbye to the three heading back to Bexley North and Candi and I readied ourselves for bed. We sat at the breakfast bar for a while before turning in discussing the events of the day, what was likely going on back home in California and the reality that her 2 young children were missing her very much since she had not prepared them in any way for her absence. We decided to head out of our townhouse at 8 a.m. the next morning for a walk and to find some breakfast in one of the sidewalk cafes in Paddington.
As I closed the door to my bedroom I could make out the distinct sounds of a party we had observed only a couple of units away when Robin had dropped us off. Knowing that it was just past midnight I wondered how long they would keep at it. I remembered I had a bottle of Advil PM in my luggage and decided to take one (why hadn't I thought about that the previous nights?). I managed to doze off within 30 minutes while doing my best to remember every detail I could recall about the last time I saw my son.
As is her style, Robin said nothing and I started feeling that some sort of apology for my obvious dissatisfaction during our meeting that was just concluded at OLF was in order. As we moved along the city streets I started to speak and I felt the frustration of the last few days well up inside of me combined with the anger and sorrow about the death of my son and the lack of knowledge as to the reason he was no longer with us. I began a diatribe of which I have very little memory of the details but primarily my loss of emotional control. I do remember at one point extolling the ludicrousness of what had become a pointless question in my mind "What would Geoff want?". I think I screamed at the top of my lungs that the only thing Geoff would want was to be among us, walking down that street, sharing his stories of the day and that all these other attempts at determining what our son and brother would have wanted after he died were futile; that what we were determining was not what Geoff would want but what we think he would want if we were him (which we certainly were not) because we couldn't ask him and there was no possible way to know if we were correct. Because he was gone and we didn't know why and because he had left us all alone and he never said goodbye.
At least twice during the walk home Melissa stopped me from stepping in front of incoming traffic at roundabouts, not because I wanted to do anything drastic but my current level of distraction didn't account for the cars coming from the opposite direction to which I was used. At one point she told me to follow her and not walk in front. I'm sure the 1 1/2 miles turned into more than 3 and that Robin and Melissa herded me up and down streets that in no way led directly to Robin's place in Bexley North. I found myself shivering from the coldness and the emotion but not always at the same time. At one point Robin took control of the dialogue; "We will find someone else to conduct Geoff's service. We have a friend that does volunteer work in the office and we'll ring her. I'm sure she can help us get someone else." These were calming words to my fractured perception and I found myself starting to breathe normally again. Yes, we'll get someone else. I was thinking rationally again. We'll call the office at OLF and they will find someone else that will do a better job. I then saw the familiar porch light of the little house in Bexley North. Robin's dented car was in the driveway, the garage was just how we left it. I had no idea how long we had been walking.
We wiped our feet before entering the much warmer confines and found Candi, Jo and Mag preparing dinner in the kitchen. A gluten free, vegetarian pasta dish for Candi (that we all tried and surprised ourselves as to its tastiness) along with other noodle based dishes provided by our many supporters, a nice salad and more of the endless, tasty dishes prepared and sent over by JoJo's mother. We broke out the wine and I know I started to feel better but certainly not normal. We agreed that after dinner Robin would take us back to our townhouse and Mag and Melissa would come along for the ride, so that Maggie could see first hand the accommodation, since she had heard all the stories. We compared notes about where we were with our individual assignments related to the upcoming Wednesday deadline and shared more memories about Geoff that had entered our consciousness since the previous evening.
After the dishes were cleaned we piled into the dented automobile and with the vibration noise that we now found quite funny headed off toward Darlinghurst in the rain. It was Saturday night so we knew the traffic would be thick. Since we had each other's company and although the ride was longer than normal it seemed quicker than the actual time. Robin dropped us at the front of the unit and drove away to find a parking spot which were in even shorter supply. Melissa and Maggie came inside with Candi and me and we gave them the tour of the downstairs. In a few minutes Robin knocked and we let her inside. We inquired as to who would be interested in attempting the adventure of making the climb up and then the descent of the dreaded staircase. Maggie and Melissa were both up to it and I caught them each leaning on the brick wall as they went upstairs to see the bedrooms. As they turned to navigate the downward portion Maggie chose to make the treacherous trip on the seat of her pants, one step at a time. This gave us all another bit of comic relief.
We had a couple bottles of wine that I purchased at a bottle shop on Oxford Street and we sat around the dining table for a short while with our drinks and talking about the good and not so good things of our situation there in Darlinghurst. On balance, the benefits far outweighed the negatives of either the location or physical challenges of Candi and my temporary "home". We recognized that it was getting late and agreed that since we were headed to Luke's home for our outing the following day (Sunday) Robin would pick us up around Noon. Candi and I liked that idea as it would give us some time to explore some of the other neighborhoods around us. We said goodbye to the three heading back to Bexley North and Candi and I readied ourselves for bed. We sat at the breakfast bar for a while before turning in discussing the events of the day, what was likely going on back home in California and the reality that her 2 young children were missing her very much since she had not prepared them in any way for her absence. We decided to head out of our townhouse at 8 a.m. the next morning for a walk and to find some breakfast in one of the sidewalk cafes in Paddington.
As I closed the door to my bedroom I could make out the distinct sounds of a party we had observed only a couple of units away when Robin had dropped us off. Knowing that it was just past midnight I wondered how long they would keep at it. I remembered I had a bottle of Advil PM in my luggage and decided to take one (why hadn't I thought about that the previous nights?). I managed to doze off within 30 minutes while doing my best to remember every detail I could recall about the last time I saw my son.
Friday, November 26, 2010
OLF in Kingsgrove
When we arrived at Robin's and made our way into the house we found JoJo and Melissa continuing their diligent work on the program for Geoff's service. The director from WN Bull had advised Jo and Melissa where they could find some outlines on the internet as a model for the program and Mag had shared a booklet she had kept from a service for a friend of hers who had recently passed away. Using those guides the girls were researching music and prayers and the supply of photos to try to come up with something especially nice. We learned that John and Vicky Pappas, Robin's dear friends, had volunteered their home in Kogarah for the reception after the service and that Robin's cousin Mathew Sullivan and his wife, Belle, were going to provide the catering. Belle and Mathew operated a catering company and wanted to make this contribution. These incredible acts of kindness and compassion in the spirit of support and love were overwhelming to me. Looking around Robin's living room at the various flower arrangements and condolence cards that had been delivered made me appreciate just how supportive the people that knew and loved Geoff were. I have to admit, though, that the flowers, although well meaning were sending me a very disturbing message. Because they are so beautiful in the vase when they arrive and the motivation behind them is so highly symbolic of the recent death of a loved one they seemed to be a constant reminder of the hopelessness of our situation. Then, because they are so temporary that symbolism repeats itself when they have to be discarded. Perhaps I was overly sensitive but I made a mental note to myself to never send flowers again to a family faced with the grim reality of the death of a loved one. I know people feel helpless and they want to do something but I would suggest it may be better to wait and see what the families wishes may be for a tribute. On the other hand, the cards that friends and family were sending I very much appreciated.
I checked my gmail account and found that Linda, from WN Bull, wanted me to phone her to discuss the viewing arrangements. I had previously ascertained that only Candi and I wanted to attend so I phoned Linda to discuss the options available. She assured us that Geoff's body had been moved from the morgue to the funeral home the previous evening and that they could prepare him for a viewing on Tuesday. She reminded us that we were to pick out clothing for Geoff to be worn for the viewing and then right through the cremation. We further confirmed that we would be able to have that appointment at 10 o'clock in the morning that Tuesday. Linda then reinforced with me the Sunday deadline for the obituary that was to be in the Sydney Morning Herald on Monday. I assured her that I had been working on it and would send her a draft in the next couple of hours. JoJo and Melissa agreed to deliver Geoff's clothing to WN Bull during the weekend.
I finished the obituary and emailed a copy to various family members for their comments as well as to Linda at WN Bull. Soon after, I received a phone call from Luke. He and his wife, Anita, invited all of us to his home on Sunday afternoon for lunch. Luke then pointed out to me that I had misspelled his son's name (Luke-jon) and that I had omitted Anita from the list of Geoff's aunts in the obituary copy. I apologized and let him know that I appreciated his comments and that was exactly the reason I had distributed the copy. I made the corrections and forwarded the copy to Linda for her review. After consulting with the rest of the group in Bexley North we decided it would be a good break to spend the day in the country with Luke and his family on Sunday.
At one point during the afternoon I felt like I needed to get out of the house for some fresh air. I walked out the front and saw Robin's car in the driveway with a huge dent in the rear hatchback and bumper. Robin has always taken special pride in her vehicles so I wondered when this had occurred as I hadn't heard anything about it. I went back into the house and asked Robin what had happened to her car. Apparently Maggie had been using the car and decided to back up into the driveway which is uphill from the street level, as she neared the garage she inadvertently stepped on the gas, instead of the brake, and crashed into the garage. "Did you see the garage?" Robin asked me after she explained what had happened. I walked back out and saw that the single car, brick garage, which was attached to the house, had been knocked slightly of its foundation and the brick columnar support for the roof was cracked. I can only imagine how badly Maggie felt about this and this was the last thing Robin needed on her plate with everything else going on. "I've called the management company for the association of this block of units " she calmly stated when I returned to the house after seeing the damage to the garage, "They'll be sending someone to take a look".
As the time neared for us to attend to our appointment at Our Lady of Fatima (OLF) in Kingsgrove Robin, Melissa, Candi, Jo and I headed over to the church in Robin's car as it was the only one that could hold us all. As we started down the road there was a loud roar from the rear end of the vehicle. I started to think that there must be more damage to the vehicle than what was obvious. As if on cue, Robin explained that she had already taken the car to a mechanic and he assured her that the noise was due to some vibration underneath that could readily be fixed and she would not damage the car further if she continued to drive it until she was able to get it repaired. I'm thinking that's all she needs at this time is to try to figure out how to get her car and garage repaired during this incredible period. We made the mile and a half drive in a few minutes and after parking approached the office of OLF. We were greeted at the door by a priest that from appearances was in his late 70's. A pleasant enough man but I was immediately on guard after shaking his hand as there was something that was annoying me about him. He invited us into the next room adjacent to the foyer and we all sat around what looked to be a communal dining table. The room was decorated with Christmas ornaments that were either too early for this year or hadn't been taken down since last.
After a round of self-introductions Robin began to explain to Father that Geoff and Melissa had attended the Catholic Schools in the neighborhood right through year 12 and that the Stanley/Loe family were members of the parish. She reminded him that he used to visit their (Robin's family) home in Kingsgrove when they were growing up and that he made a few stops there when her dad had died and later to visit Shirley Stanley occasionally. As Father kept wringing his hands and repeating over and over "It must be a shock" when reflecting on Geoff's death it struck me he didn't have a clue who Geoff was, or Robin or Shirley Stanley, although he seemed to remember the neighborhood in Kingsgrove where the family home was on Armitree Street. He asked some questions about Geoff and at one point he looked at Robin and asked "Do you think Geoff knew he was going to die?" to which Robin bravely answered "No, Father, I don't" . He then turned to Jo and asked the same question. JoJo's response nearly knocked me out of my chair "Yes, Father, I do think Geoff knew". Nobody in the room seemed to react to Jo's statement but my brain nearly leaped from my skull. Why had I not heard this before? What had happened that Jo had this sense Geoff was going to die? What I knew of was the last time she had seen Geoff was on the Saturday night, exactly one week ago, which was at least 3 days before he collapsed the second time. I knew I had to speak with Jo about this but now was not the time. My mind was continuing to race and then Father asked questions about the rest of Geoff's family, both those in Australia as well as America. I found myself thinking he wouldn't remember one word of what we were speaking about after we were gone. If he was truly going to perform the service I figured we would have to go over all these details with him at least one more time. He then asked a line of questions that tore my heart out "Was Geoff ever married? Did he have any children?" I began to weep with the thought of Geoff never having those happy events occur in his life. Never having the opportunity to say "I do" to the person he loved. Never being able to cuddle his own flesh and blood and see the wonder that is the development of your child into an adult. Then I found myself getting very angry. Who was this person to pretend to have feelings for our son, someone he apparently didn't know at all or at least did not remember? I started to feel like we were an audience in a badly acted play. I became ever more upset when he asked Candi a question but referred to her as "Cathy" but I tried to hold it inside. He started rambling on about the service scheduled for Wednesday and used the phraseology which by now was also grating on my nerves "What would Geoffrey want?" I found myself staring at the wall because I could not look at this man although I understood that years of service in the church and time itself had no doubt stolen his capacity for genuineness and compassion. Then, it happened. Someone's mobile phone was ringing. Without excusing himself Father reached into his jacket pocket and extracted a phone. He looked at the phone as if it was the first time he had ever seen it, managed to manipulate the keys so as to answer it and then proceeded to carry on a conversation that lasted more than a few minutes with whomever the caller.
I am not a physically violent person, never have been, but it took all the restraint I had not to rip that phone from his age spotted hands and crush it under my foot. Instead, my flight or fight response was to get away from that table as quickly as I could. I nearly fell trying to extricate myself from the chair and I charged out the doorway of the room I felt trapped in and hit the door leading from the foyer to the outside in full stride. Damn it; the door was locked. As I fumbled around trying to unlock the door so as to escape this room that seemed to have all its walls falling in on me I found the voice of reason in my brain telling me to take a few deep breaths and return to the table so as not to upset the rest of the family members in attendance. I did and Father seemingly didn't notice that I had left or that I had returned as he was just now replacing the mobile phone into his jacket pocket. He then indicated he would confirm our plans for Wednesday with the church secretary and get back to us. Father shook each person's hand as they left the room. When he took mine I could not look him in the eye.
We exited the office to the now very chilly outdoors where it was quite dark. Robin looked at Jo and asked her to drive Candi back to the house and suggested she and I and Melissa walk the mile and a half back to Bexley North. It seemed like a good idea.
I checked my gmail account and found that Linda, from WN Bull, wanted me to phone her to discuss the viewing arrangements. I had previously ascertained that only Candi and I wanted to attend so I phoned Linda to discuss the options available. She assured us that Geoff's body had been moved from the morgue to the funeral home the previous evening and that they could prepare him for a viewing on Tuesday. She reminded us that we were to pick out clothing for Geoff to be worn for the viewing and then right through the cremation. We further confirmed that we would be able to have that appointment at 10 o'clock in the morning that Tuesday. Linda then reinforced with me the Sunday deadline for the obituary that was to be in the Sydney Morning Herald on Monday. I assured her that I had been working on it and would send her a draft in the next couple of hours. JoJo and Melissa agreed to deliver Geoff's clothing to WN Bull during the weekend.
I finished the obituary and emailed a copy to various family members for their comments as well as to Linda at WN Bull. Soon after, I received a phone call from Luke. He and his wife, Anita, invited all of us to his home on Sunday afternoon for lunch. Luke then pointed out to me that I had misspelled his son's name (Luke-jon) and that I had omitted Anita from the list of Geoff's aunts in the obituary copy. I apologized and let him know that I appreciated his comments and that was exactly the reason I had distributed the copy. I made the corrections and forwarded the copy to Linda for her review. After consulting with the rest of the group in Bexley North we decided it would be a good break to spend the day in the country with Luke and his family on Sunday.
At one point during the afternoon I felt like I needed to get out of the house for some fresh air. I walked out the front and saw Robin's car in the driveway with a huge dent in the rear hatchback and bumper. Robin has always taken special pride in her vehicles so I wondered when this had occurred as I hadn't heard anything about it. I went back into the house and asked Robin what had happened to her car. Apparently Maggie had been using the car and decided to back up into the driveway which is uphill from the street level, as she neared the garage she inadvertently stepped on the gas, instead of the brake, and crashed into the garage. "Did you see the garage?" Robin asked me after she explained what had happened. I walked back out and saw that the single car, brick garage, which was attached to the house, had been knocked slightly of its foundation and the brick columnar support for the roof was cracked. I can only imagine how badly Maggie felt about this and this was the last thing Robin needed on her plate with everything else going on. "I've called the management company for the association of this block of units " she calmly stated when I returned to the house after seeing the damage to the garage, "They'll be sending someone to take a look".
As the time neared for us to attend to our appointment at Our Lady of Fatima (OLF) in Kingsgrove Robin, Melissa, Candi, Jo and I headed over to the church in Robin's car as it was the only one that could hold us all. As we started down the road there was a loud roar from the rear end of the vehicle. I started to think that there must be more damage to the vehicle than what was obvious. As if on cue, Robin explained that she had already taken the car to a mechanic and he assured her that the noise was due to some vibration underneath that could readily be fixed and she would not damage the car further if she continued to drive it until she was able to get it repaired. I'm thinking that's all she needs at this time is to try to figure out how to get her car and garage repaired during this incredible period. We made the mile and a half drive in a few minutes and after parking approached the office of OLF. We were greeted at the door by a priest that from appearances was in his late 70's. A pleasant enough man but I was immediately on guard after shaking his hand as there was something that was annoying me about him. He invited us into the next room adjacent to the foyer and we all sat around what looked to be a communal dining table. The room was decorated with Christmas ornaments that were either too early for this year or hadn't been taken down since last.
After a round of self-introductions Robin began to explain to Father that Geoff and Melissa had attended the Catholic Schools in the neighborhood right through year 12 and that the Stanley/Loe family were members of the parish. She reminded him that he used to visit their (Robin's family) home in Kingsgrove when they were growing up and that he made a few stops there when her dad had died and later to visit Shirley Stanley occasionally. As Father kept wringing his hands and repeating over and over "It must be a shock" when reflecting on Geoff's death it struck me he didn't have a clue who Geoff was, or Robin or Shirley Stanley, although he seemed to remember the neighborhood in Kingsgrove where the family home was on Armitree Street. He asked some questions about Geoff and at one point he looked at Robin and asked "Do you think Geoff knew he was going to die?" to which Robin bravely answered "No, Father, I don't" . He then turned to Jo and asked the same question. JoJo's response nearly knocked me out of my chair "Yes, Father, I do think Geoff knew". Nobody in the room seemed to react to Jo's statement but my brain nearly leaped from my skull. Why had I not heard this before? What had happened that Jo had this sense Geoff was going to die? What I knew of was the last time she had seen Geoff was on the Saturday night, exactly one week ago, which was at least 3 days before he collapsed the second time. I knew I had to speak with Jo about this but now was not the time. My mind was continuing to race and then Father asked questions about the rest of Geoff's family, both those in Australia as well as America. I found myself thinking he wouldn't remember one word of what we were speaking about after we were gone. If he was truly going to perform the service I figured we would have to go over all these details with him at least one more time. He then asked a line of questions that tore my heart out "Was Geoff ever married? Did he have any children?" I began to weep with the thought of Geoff never having those happy events occur in his life. Never having the opportunity to say "I do" to the person he loved. Never being able to cuddle his own flesh and blood and see the wonder that is the development of your child into an adult. Then I found myself getting very angry. Who was this person to pretend to have feelings for our son, someone he apparently didn't know at all or at least did not remember? I started to feel like we were an audience in a badly acted play. I became ever more upset when he asked Candi a question but referred to her as "Cathy" but I tried to hold it inside. He started rambling on about the service scheduled for Wednesday and used the phraseology which by now was also grating on my nerves "What would Geoffrey want?" I found myself staring at the wall because I could not look at this man although I understood that years of service in the church and time itself had no doubt stolen his capacity for genuineness and compassion. Then, it happened. Someone's mobile phone was ringing. Without excusing himself Father reached into his jacket pocket and extracted a phone. He looked at the phone as if it was the first time he had ever seen it, managed to manipulate the keys so as to answer it and then proceeded to carry on a conversation that lasted more than a few minutes with whomever the caller.
I am not a physically violent person, never have been, but it took all the restraint I had not to rip that phone from his age spotted hands and crush it under my foot. Instead, my flight or fight response was to get away from that table as quickly as I could. I nearly fell trying to extricate myself from the chair and I charged out the doorway of the room I felt trapped in and hit the door leading from the foyer to the outside in full stride. Damn it; the door was locked. As I fumbled around trying to unlock the door so as to escape this room that seemed to have all its walls falling in on me I found the voice of reason in my brain telling me to take a few deep breaths and return to the table so as not to upset the rest of the family members in attendance. I did and Father seemingly didn't notice that I had left or that I had returned as he was just now replacing the mobile phone into his jacket pocket. He then indicated he would confirm our plans for Wednesday with the church secretary and get back to us. Father shook each person's hand as they left the room. When he took mine I could not look him in the eye.
We exited the office to the now very chilly outdoors where it was quite dark. Robin looked at Jo and asked her to drive Candi back to the house and suggested she and I and Melissa walk the mile and a half back to Bexley North. It seemed like a good idea.
Thursday, November 25, 2010
Saturday Morning
At some point in the night my brain switched off enough that I was able to sleep for a few hours even if it was that twilight type that leaves one feeling as if they have been running in a race underwater. I was aware of a fair amount of noise outside my window at different stages while lying in bed which I recognized as the Friday night crowd becoming the early Saturday morning crowd moving from one venue to the next. Since our townhouse was on a street that ran the one block from Flinders to So. Dowling and then one block in the other direction from Oxford Street we were in the center of the Bermuda Triangle of the Darlinghurst nightlife. Sydney is a city that gets started late and doesn't stop until the sun rises. Darlinghurst, it turns out, is where the real partiers in Sydney spend there leisure time. It also didn't take me long to figure out that in my haste to get settled the first night we were in the unit I foolishly grabbed the bedroom that was on the street, leaving the bedroom in the back of the house, away from the street noise, to Candi. I've since chalked that up to Dad taking care of his daughter but at the time I was wondering how I could be so careless.
At a moment in the night I checked Robin's mobile phone that I still had in my possession when I felt I had reached the point of restlessness that signals one to get out of bed. 3:27 a.m. the display glared back at me in fluorescent green. Knowing my own inabilities to fight off the urge to get up and start moving about I grabbed a pair of sweatsocks to ward of the chilly floors and headed out to attempt the downward ascent of the wicked staircase. Since the boards that made up the stairs were highly polished I tread especially slowly so as to not slip and break my neck. I started the routine of the cups of instant cappuccino supplemented by toast with peanut butter. I occupied what was to become my regular place at the breakfast bar, balanced on the wobbly stool and proceeded to employ the rest of the lone box of tissues we had remaining to absorb my tears. I found that although I was able to put on the brave face for the rest of the family, most of the time, when I was alone with my thoughts the events and reality became nearly unbearable. I was feeling so frustrated. In spite of my research the previous day I had no confidence that I was on the right track. I wondered about the doctors and their commitment to our son. I worried about Robin and Melissa and Jo and Mag and Luke and Candi and Carri and Mitzi and how this tragedy would affect all of our lives forever.
Intermittently, the rain would fall softly on the patio in the back which I was facing from the breakfast bar. I could hear the revelers scurry past the doorway out the front. Knowing that the sun would be coming up in about an hour I decided to grab my jacket and head outside. Since it was mid-day Friday in California I thought I would check in with my office. Mitzi is our office manager and it would also give me an opportunity to catch up with her since until that time the only communication we had was a few minutes here and there on the telephone and an email or two from Geoff's MacBook. I knew that Candi wouldn't be stirring until much later and Jeanette was going to pick us up around 10:00 and take us shopping for some of the things we would be needing but didn't pack in our haste. I grabbed Robin's mobile phone and headed out the door since the sound echoed around our little apartment with all its hard surfaces it made more sense to make the call outdoors so as to not disturb Candi.
I locked both doors and started walking toward Flinders. I dialed the office in Palm Desert and when Mitzi answered the phone I asked her to ring me back so as to not run up the long distance charges on Robin's mobile phone. As I approached the intersection a group of men in attire that was way to skimpy for the chilly temperature exploded out of the back entrance to the "Bodyline 2000" (it's sign complete with the rainbow flag) arms around each others waists, making an incredible racket. About the time I noticed them the mobile phone was signaling me for the incoming call. I answered, and not wanting to deal with the stumbling herd ahead of me I turned up the next street. As I started to speak with Mitzi I noticed movement in a recessed doorway just ahead of me to my right. Without too much detail, what I witnessed next was a heterosexual couple involved in what I described to Luke later as my new found respect for Sydneysiders thriftiness in that they apparently didn't like to waste money on hotel rooms. I was starting to think I was trapped in a nightmare when out of the corner of my eye I saw 2 large dogs springing toward me untethered with their apparent master locking up his own door before attempting to rein in his canine friends. All of this while I am trying my best to communicate the events of the past 48 hours to my wife. Now I was convinced that I was trapped in a Stanley Kubrick film and would never escape. As I breathlessly tried to explain to Mitzi what was happening I'm sure she was thinking that I had lost my mind. I'm sure I was thinking that I had as well.
It was still dark as I found refuge in a little "Bark Park" that was at the end of the block and save for the trash collector and street sweeper that came by while I was resident there I was able to have the rest of my conversation in relative peace. Mitzi and I decided that in spite of the challenges of my being outdoors in Darlinghurst at 6 o'clock in the morning it made sense to check in at that time each day going forward as it was noon in California, albeit the day before. I headed back toward Taylor Street as I said goodbye to Mitzi and noticed the couple I had observed about 45 minutes earlier in the doorway were now standing side by side, leaning against the building, smoking cigarettes.
I decided I would head to the grocery store that was just up Oxford Street and get a few things I knew we needed in the unit. I grabbed some "real" ground coffee as I had noticed an espresso press in the cupboard among the dishes and utensils and wasn't sure if I could handle any more "instant". After selecting a few boxes of kleenex, a couple of rolls of paper towels, fruit, milk, a loaf of bread and some yogurt I figured I had all I could carry. I headed back to the townhouse with my bags of groceries and then stopped at a convenience store that provided access to a computer and the internet for $2 per 20 minutes. My business partner, Art Alvarez, and Mitzi were handling my work duties while I was away but they had agreed to send emails to identify any issues with which they needed assistance since I left everything I was assigned in an "as is" state when I rushed out of the office on Tuesday evening. I spent the next 15 minutes, or so, responding to emails on my two accounts. This phone call, walk to the grocery store and visit at the internet cafe became my routine for nearly every morning I was in Sydney.
I awakened Candi at a predetermined time and we tried out the espresso press and found it to be much more to our liking than the instant coffee. I told Candi about my adventures of the morning and she let me know how well she has slept. We then decided to take a walk to Hyde Park before having breakfast in the townhouse and waited for Jeanette to come calling. Jeanette picked us up in "Tiffany" and wheeled us downtown to the Pitt Street shopping area where there were numerous shops and department stores. Primarily, we were looking for a dress for Candi to wear to Geoff's service and then shoes to match the dress. I suppose I was along for consultation purposes only. At one point, while Candi and Jeanette were in a succession of shoe stores I propped myself up against a wall and watched the herds of people out and about on a Saturday morning go by. How could it be fair, I kept asking myself, that all these people are out shopping and seemingly without a care in the world and my son's body is in the funeral home on King Street? Surely he was less deserving than many of these people to have his life ended. I then noticed a woman in her 30's standing right in front of me mouthing the words "Are you all right?" and I suppose since I had tears streaming down my face she had every right but not wanting to explain myself I nodded my head and walked toward where I thought Jeanette and Candi had gone.
I found Candi and Jeanette in a few minutes and they indicated they wanted to visit the David Jones department store that was just up the road. Candi had found a dress but was now in search of shoes to match. I followed along and when they started toward the ladies shoe department, which was the size of a small auditorium I let them know they could find me in the Men's department. We agreed to meet at the top of the escalator in half an hour. I managed to find myself 3 shirts, I needed them badly, that were part of the "Super Saturday" sale and made my purchase, met the girls at the agreed upon time and resumed my tag along position. After a few more fruitless minutes Jeanette suggested we head to an enclosed mall shopping center that was near her home and so we found "Tiffany" and motored our way to the newest hunting ground.
After we exited the carpark into the mall I noticed a Vodaphone mobile phone store almost immediately when we entered the complex. I told the girls I would take a look in there and then stay around that area until they returned. I found a very accommodating young man in the busy Vodaphone store and asked him what he would do if he was in Sydney for a few weeks, needed to be able to communicate locally and back to California with the ability to text. He immediately suggested a Nokia phone that was smaller than any I had ever used and advised that I should load it with a $49 Prepaid "recharge". The entire cost for the phone and the recharge was $78 and upon purchasing the phone I now had my own number which both Candi and I could use for our family members to contact us and I could give Robin back her phone so that I didn't need to worry any longer about how much I was running up her bill. I had sufficient prepaid airtime such that Candi and I used the phone liberally during our trip and never had the need to recharge a second time.
After I exited the store with my bright red Vodaphone bag in hand I saw Candi and Jeanette heading toward me with shopping bags. Candi was excited that she had found 2 pair of shoes and wasn't sure which one she would keep but was going to return whichever pair she didn't after getting the opinions of some of the other ladies. Jeanette wanted to have lunch but I insisted we head over to Robin's as it was now early afternoon and we still had plenty of things to work out and were scheduled for our meeting at the Catholic Church later that afternoon. We found Tiffany just where we had left her in the carpark and headed to Bexley North.
At a moment in the night I checked Robin's mobile phone that I still had in my possession when I felt I had reached the point of restlessness that signals one to get out of bed. 3:27 a.m. the display glared back at me in fluorescent green. Knowing my own inabilities to fight off the urge to get up and start moving about I grabbed a pair of sweatsocks to ward of the chilly floors and headed out to attempt the downward ascent of the wicked staircase. Since the boards that made up the stairs were highly polished I tread especially slowly so as to not slip and break my neck. I started the routine of the cups of instant cappuccino supplemented by toast with peanut butter. I occupied what was to become my regular place at the breakfast bar, balanced on the wobbly stool and proceeded to employ the rest of the lone box of tissues we had remaining to absorb my tears. I found that although I was able to put on the brave face for the rest of the family, most of the time, when I was alone with my thoughts the events and reality became nearly unbearable. I was feeling so frustrated. In spite of my research the previous day I had no confidence that I was on the right track. I wondered about the doctors and their commitment to our son. I worried about Robin and Melissa and Jo and Mag and Luke and Candi and Carri and Mitzi and how this tragedy would affect all of our lives forever.
Intermittently, the rain would fall softly on the patio in the back which I was facing from the breakfast bar. I could hear the revelers scurry past the doorway out the front. Knowing that the sun would be coming up in about an hour I decided to grab my jacket and head outside. Since it was mid-day Friday in California I thought I would check in with my office. Mitzi is our office manager and it would also give me an opportunity to catch up with her since until that time the only communication we had was a few minutes here and there on the telephone and an email or two from Geoff's MacBook. I knew that Candi wouldn't be stirring until much later and Jeanette was going to pick us up around 10:00 and take us shopping for some of the things we would be needing but didn't pack in our haste. I grabbed Robin's mobile phone and headed out the door since the sound echoed around our little apartment with all its hard surfaces it made more sense to make the call outdoors so as to not disturb Candi.
I locked both doors and started walking toward Flinders. I dialed the office in Palm Desert and when Mitzi answered the phone I asked her to ring me back so as to not run up the long distance charges on Robin's mobile phone. As I approached the intersection a group of men in attire that was way to skimpy for the chilly temperature exploded out of the back entrance to the "Bodyline 2000" (it's sign complete with the rainbow flag) arms around each others waists, making an incredible racket. About the time I noticed them the mobile phone was signaling me for the incoming call. I answered, and not wanting to deal with the stumbling herd ahead of me I turned up the next street. As I started to speak with Mitzi I noticed movement in a recessed doorway just ahead of me to my right. Without too much detail, what I witnessed next was a heterosexual couple involved in what I described to Luke later as my new found respect for Sydneysiders thriftiness in that they apparently didn't like to waste money on hotel rooms. I was starting to think I was trapped in a nightmare when out of the corner of my eye I saw 2 large dogs springing toward me untethered with their apparent master locking up his own door before attempting to rein in his canine friends. All of this while I am trying my best to communicate the events of the past 48 hours to my wife. Now I was convinced that I was trapped in a Stanley Kubrick film and would never escape. As I breathlessly tried to explain to Mitzi what was happening I'm sure she was thinking that I had lost my mind. I'm sure I was thinking that I had as well.
It was still dark as I found refuge in a little "Bark Park" that was at the end of the block and save for the trash collector and street sweeper that came by while I was resident there I was able to have the rest of my conversation in relative peace. Mitzi and I decided that in spite of the challenges of my being outdoors in Darlinghurst at 6 o'clock in the morning it made sense to check in at that time each day going forward as it was noon in California, albeit the day before. I headed back toward Taylor Street as I said goodbye to Mitzi and noticed the couple I had observed about 45 minutes earlier in the doorway were now standing side by side, leaning against the building, smoking cigarettes.
I decided I would head to the grocery store that was just up Oxford Street and get a few things I knew we needed in the unit. I grabbed some "real" ground coffee as I had noticed an espresso press in the cupboard among the dishes and utensils and wasn't sure if I could handle any more "instant". After selecting a few boxes of kleenex, a couple of rolls of paper towels, fruit, milk, a loaf of bread and some yogurt I figured I had all I could carry. I headed back to the townhouse with my bags of groceries and then stopped at a convenience store that provided access to a computer and the internet for $2 per 20 minutes. My business partner, Art Alvarez, and Mitzi were handling my work duties while I was away but they had agreed to send emails to identify any issues with which they needed assistance since I left everything I was assigned in an "as is" state when I rushed out of the office on Tuesday evening. I spent the next 15 minutes, or so, responding to emails on my two accounts. This phone call, walk to the grocery store and visit at the internet cafe became my routine for nearly every morning I was in Sydney.
I awakened Candi at a predetermined time and we tried out the espresso press and found it to be much more to our liking than the instant coffee. I told Candi about my adventures of the morning and she let me know how well she has slept. We then decided to take a walk to Hyde Park before having breakfast in the townhouse and waited for Jeanette to come calling. Jeanette picked us up in "Tiffany" and wheeled us downtown to the Pitt Street shopping area where there were numerous shops and department stores. Primarily, we were looking for a dress for Candi to wear to Geoff's service and then shoes to match the dress. I suppose I was along for consultation purposes only. At one point, while Candi and Jeanette were in a succession of shoe stores I propped myself up against a wall and watched the herds of people out and about on a Saturday morning go by. How could it be fair, I kept asking myself, that all these people are out shopping and seemingly without a care in the world and my son's body is in the funeral home on King Street? Surely he was less deserving than many of these people to have his life ended. I then noticed a woman in her 30's standing right in front of me mouthing the words "Are you all right?" and I suppose since I had tears streaming down my face she had every right but not wanting to explain myself I nodded my head and walked toward where I thought Jeanette and Candi had gone.
I found Candi and Jeanette in a few minutes and they indicated they wanted to visit the David Jones department store that was just up the road. Candi had found a dress but was now in search of shoes to match. I followed along and when they started toward the ladies shoe department, which was the size of a small auditorium I let them know they could find me in the Men's department. We agreed to meet at the top of the escalator in half an hour. I managed to find myself 3 shirts, I needed them badly, that were part of the "Super Saturday" sale and made my purchase, met the girls at the agreed upon time and resumed my tag along position. After a few more fruitless minutes Jeanette suggested we head to an enclosed mall shopping center that was near her home and so we found "Tiffany" and motored our way to the newest hunting ground.
After we exited the carpark into the mall I noticed a Vodaphone mobile phone store almost immediately when we entered the complex. I told the girls I would take a look in there and then stay around that area until they returned. I found a very accommodating young man in the busy Vodaphone store and asked him what he would do if he was in Sydney for a few weeks, needed to be able to communicate locally and back to California with the ability to text. He immediately suggested a Nokia phone that was smaller than any I had ever used and advised that I should load it with a $49 Prepaid "recharge". The entire cost for the phone and the recharge was $78 and upon purchasing the phone I now had my own number which both Candi and I could use for our family members to contact us and I could give Robin back her phone so that I didn't need to worry any longer about how much I was running up her bill. I had sufficient prepaid airtime such that Candi and I used the phone liberally during our trip and never had the need to recharge a second time.
After I exited the store with my bright red Vodaphone bag in hand I saw Candi and Jeanette heading toward me with shopping bags. Candi was excited that she had found 2 pair of shoes and wasn't sure which one she would keep but was going to return whichever pair she didn't after getting the opinions of some of the other ladies. Jeanette wanted to have lunch but I insisted we head over to Robin's as it was now early afternoon and we still had plenty of things to work out and were scheduled for our meeting at the Catholic Church later that afternoon. We found Tiffany just where we had left her in the carpark and headed to Bexley North.
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
EBV, Glandular Fever and Lymphoma
It didn't take long to determine through Google searches and the subsequent drill downs to find the suspected link between the Epstein Barr Virus, "Glandular Fever" (Infectious Mononucleosis (IM)) and Hodgkin Lymphoma.
Epstein-Barr Virus (EBV) is a type of virus that infects many people around the world. It is related to viruses that cause cold sores and chickenpox. Infection with this virus usually occurs in childhood as a throat infection, but can occur in adolescence or adulthood. In adolescence and early adulthood it causes "glandular fever." EBV has a unique set of genes that causes a growth activation of the cells that it infects. EBV mainly infects B-Cells, which is a type of white blood cell. While most of the time the infection causes little damage, sometimes the growth activating genes may cause the infected B-cells to turn into cancers in certain people. The most common cancers caused by EBV are lymphomas. There are at least 3 types of lymphoma that have a definite link to EBV infection but 2 of them have to do with transplant and post-transplant patients or are related to Malaria, neither of which apply in Geoff's case. What I did find, though, was find a strong link between EBV and Hodgkin Lymphoma, especially in young males.
Statistically, in western countries, nearly 40% of individuals diagnosed with Hodgkin Lymphoma are also currently infected with EBV. The infection rate may be even higher in many other parts of the world. The exact process by which EBV may cause Hodgkin Lymphoma is not well understood, but it is evident that EBV has an important role to play in the development of this cancer. At the same time, nearly 90% of adults between the ages of 35 and 40 in the countries studied have been infected with the EBV at some time in their life. They obviously do not all develop Hodgkin Lymphoma and although glandular fever or IM is much more common, not everyone infected with the virus develops that disease, either. This statement, which I found on the website for the Centers for Disease Control was chilling, "There is no specific treatment for Infectious Mononucleosis, other than treating the symptoms." Apparently the IM does not react positively to antibiotics and there are many documented cases of adverse reactions to antibiotics by IM patients. There are also issues associated with the determination as to whether the infection is recent, whether the patient had been infected at some time in the past or what is referred to as a "recurrent" infection.
Based on this initial research combined with the information I had pieced together from the hospital and the coroner's office I began to develop my own theory. Geoff had been feeling poorly for 3 weeks prior to his death, complaining of tonsillitis and extreme tiredness. At some point a few days before he first collapsed he had been diagnosed with "Glandular Fever" and told to rest, take in fluids and use Tylenol (Panadol) to control the fever. The normal course of Glandular Fever is that there's about a 4 week period of acute symptoms followed by 4 to 6 months of progressive improvement and that there is no known treatment, just the palliative things that one can do for the symptoms. I surmised, then, because Geoff's immune system was most likely still compromised from the chemotherapy and radiation in 2008 he wasn't able to fight off the infection like one would have expected from the healthy 26 year old man he appeared to be. As I did additional research I became more and more anxious about meeting with Geoff's doctors. My previous knowledge about Lymphoma as a result of my own bout in 1998 (not Hodgkin but Diffuse Large B-Cell) was that Lymphoma, in and of itself, rarely kills quickly. My oncologist had told me then that more patients die from the treatment regimen or opportunistic infections than of the disease if identified early enough. My belief would have been that even if the Lymphoma had returned, as the coroner was suggesting, that it would not have, acting alone, caused the obvious devastation that had occurred in Geoff's case. The interplay between the Lymphoma and the glandular fever was something I was not familiar with but was anxious to learn more about. At one point Robin informed me that she had been able to secure an appointment to meet with Geoff's doctors on Monday afternoon, October 11. I wondered what they were going to be able to tell us to help us understand how this tragic event could have taken place and whether or not they felt they had done everything possible in Geoff's best interest.
In the meantime, Melissa and Jo were working feverishly on the booklet that was to be handed out for Geoff's service. The church let us know that Wednesday afternoon, October 13 was available and we would be able to nail down the details at our meeting the next day with the priest. Candi was busy pouring through old photos of Geoff that we might use in a slide show to be presented after the service during a wake. Telephone calls and emails were flying around relative to the catering for the wake, the obituary that was to be placed in the Sydney Morning Herald, the time for the viewing of Geoff's body at WN Bull and many other details. We talked among ourselves as to how many we expected to attend the service so as to have enough of the booklets printed and the consensus was we thought about 60 would be appropriate. Candi and Robin prepared dinner for everyone with Jeanette and Maggie's help from the generous and delicious Lebanese dishes that JoJo's mother had prepared and sent to the house. We finished off a few bottles of Australia's bounty from the Margaret River (Red and White) along with our dinner. Exhausted, Candi and I were driven back to Darlinghurst by Robin. She dropped us off at the front door, said goodnight and drove off as we opened the two doors to the townhouse. Melissa had come along for the ride and to keep her mother company on the return trip.
It was Friday night in Darlinghurst. The unmistakable "thump, thump, thump" of musical bass reverberated outside the windows from a not too far distance. The occasional partiers stumbled past the unit communicating to anyone in too loud of voices. Cars moved up and down the street looking for parking spaces which were at a premium on a weekend night. Candi and I readied ourselves for bed, gave each other hugs and retired to our bedrooms. I heard the steady pattering of raindrops on the metal roof as I tried to sort out my thoughts from the day. I was exhausted but apparently not tired enough as I found the relief of sleep fleeting while my mind was racing.
Epstein-Barr Virus (EBV) is a type of virus that infects many people around the world. It is related to viruses that cause cold sores and chickenpox. Infection with this virus usually occurs in childhood as a throat infection, but can occur in adolescence or adulthood. In adolescence and early adulthood it causes "glandular fever." EBV has a unique set of genes that causes a growth activation of the cells that it infects. EBV mainly infects B-Cells, which is a type of white blood cell. While most of the time the infection causes little damage, sometimes the growth activating genes may cause the infected B-cells to turn into cancers in certain people. The most common cancers caused by EBV are lymphomas. There are at least 3 types of lymphoma that have a definite link to EBV infection but 2 of them have to do with transplant and post-transplant patients or are related to Malaria, neither of which apply in Geoff's case. What I did find, though, was find a strong link between EBV and Hodgkin Lymphoma, especially in young males.
Statistically, in western countries, nearly 40% of individuals diagnosed with Hodgkin Lymphoma are also currently infected with EBV. The infection rate may be even higher in many other parts of the world. The exact process by which EBV may cause Hodgkin Lymphoma is not well understood, but it is evident that EBV has an important role to play in the development of this cancer. At the same time, nearly 90% of adults between the ages of 35 and 40 in the countries studied have been infected with the EBV at some time in their life. They obviously do not all develop Hodgkin Lymphoma and although glandular fever or IM is much more common, not everyone infected with the virus develops that disease, either. This statement, which I found on the website for the Centers for Disease Control was chilling, "There is no specific treatment for Infectious Mononucleosis, other than treating the symptoms." Apparently the IM does not react positively to antibiotics and there are many documented cases of adverse reactions to antibiotics by IM patients. There are also issues associated with the determination as to whether the infection is recent, whether the patient had been infected at some time in the past or what is referred to as a "recurrent" infection.
Based on this initial research combined with the information I had pieced together from the hospital and the coroner's office I began to develop my own theory. Geoff had been feeling poorly for 3 weeks prior to his death, complaining of tonsillitis and extreme tiredness. At some point a few days before he first collapsed he had been diagnosed with "Glandular Fever" and told to rest, take in fluids and use Tylenol (Panadol) to control the fever. The normal course of Glandular Fever is that there's about a 4 week period of acute symptoms followed by 4 to 6 months of progressive improvement and that there is no known treatment, just the palliative things that one can do for the symptoms. I surmised, then, because Geoff's immune system was most likely still compromised from the chemotherapy and radiation in 2008 he wasn't able to fight off the infection like one would have expected from the healthy 26 year old man he appeared to be. As I did additional research I became more and more anxious about meeting with Geoff's doctors. My previous knowledge about Lymphoma as a result of my own bout in 1998 (not Hodgkin but Diffuse Large B-Cell) was that Lymphoma, in and of itself, rarely kills quickly. My oncologist had told me then that more patients die from the treatment regimen or opportunistic infections than of the disease if identified early enough. My belief would have been that even if the Lymphoma had returned, as the coroner was suggesting, that it would not have, acting alone, caused the obvious devastation that had occurred in Geoff's case. The interplay between the Lymphoma and the glandular fever was something I was not familiar with but was anxious to learn more about. At one point Robin informed me that she had been able to secure an appointment to meet with Geoff's doctors on Monday afternoon, October 11. I wondered what they were going to be able to tell us to help us understand how this tragic event could have taken place and whether or not they felt they had done everything possible in Geoff's best interest.
In the meantime, Melissa and Jo were working feverishly on the booklet that was to be handed out for Geoff's service. The church let us know that Wednesday afternoon, October 13 was available and we would be able to nail down the details at our meeting the next day with the priest. Candi was busy pouring through old photos of Geoff that we might use in a slide show to be presented after the service during a wake. Telephone calls and emails were flying around relative to the catering for the wake, the obituary that was to be placed in the Sydney Morning Herald, the time for the viewing of Geoff's body at WN Bull and many other details. We talked among ourselves as to how many we expected to attend the service so as to have enough of the booklets printed and the consensus was we thought about 60 would be appropriate. Candi and Robin prepared dinner for everyone with Jeanette and Maggie's help from the generous and delicious Lebanese dishes that JoJo's mother had prepared and sent to the house. We finished off a few bottles of Australia's bounty from the Margaret River (Red and White) along with our dinner. Exhausted, Candi and I were driven back to Darlinghurst by Robin. She dropped us off at the front door, said goodnight and drove off as we opened the two doors to the townhouse. Melissa had come along for the ride and to keep her mother company on the return trip.
It was Friday night in Darlinghurst. The unmistakable "thump, thump, thump" of musical bass reverberated outside the windows from a not too far distance. The occasional partiers stumbled past the unit communicating to anyone in too loud of voices. Cars moved up and down the street looking for parking spaces which were at a premium on a weekend night. Candi and I readied ourselves for bed, gave each other hugs and retired to our bedrooms. I heard the steady pattering of raindrops on the metal roof as I tried to sort out my thoughts from the day. I was exhausted but apparently not tired enough as I found the relief of sleep fleeting while my mind was racing.
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Plans and Preparation (continued)
Linda from WN Bull proceeded to then outline for us the other decisions we needed to make, although she stressed that we could take the information under consideration and get back to her with the consensus in the next day or so. The next item we needed to decide upon was to pick out a coffin. I guess I hadn't thought that part through as I had a moment of confusion in my mind about the need for a casket when we had just made the decision to have Geoff's remains cremated. Linda explained that Geoff would be kept in the coffin from the time he arrived at the funeral home and was prepared right up to the actual cremation which would be performed with his body in the coffin. He would also be prepared for viewing, if anyone desired to do that, and presented for that purpose in the casket as well. She handed us catalogs exhibiting scores of choices for designs, colors, materials and configurations. At a time in our lives when we could have imagined Robin and me advising Geoff on picking out a suit that was appropriate for his wedding, we were forced to make a choice of the vessel in which his body would be housed for the next few days and then burned. Understand that most of the communication at this point is non-verbal among the 6 of us and consists of mostly nodding of our heads and eye contact. We all took turns looking at the catalogs through the fog of our tears. We started wondering aloud, "What would Geoff want?" and the consensus was nothing too ornate or fancy but elegant and simply stated. After very little debate and a decision to go ahead now rather than later we picked out a beautiful Tasmanian Blackwood timber coffin with a satin finish that I feel confident was a choice with which Geoff would have agreed. The theme "What would Geoff want?" carried through then to the flowers (whole, three-quarter or half drape); we ultimately decided on the half-drape so as to have room on the top of the coffin to display photos and personal articles. Geoff would have wanted green as the predominate color we concluded next. "Did we want to place an announcement in the Sydney Morning Herald?" Was the next proposition for which I volunteered to write the obituary and we all agreed we would (or should I say Geoff would) want that. After all, he had lots of friends that we were striving to make sure were notified of the service, once that was arranged. There were then details about which crematorium we would want to use, whether or not we wanted to be present for the cremation, who would pick up the ashes, how we were to arrange transport to the service and other miscellaneous details for the interim period and on the day of the actual service.
Linda then brought up the idea of a viewing. She reminded us that the Catholic service would not allow an open casket so the opportunity to view Geoff's body was only available at the office of WN Bull. I knew I had to do that. I had not seen Geoff for some time before he died and never once doubted that was what I wanted to do. Candi also wanted to be involved. We concluded that we would like to have a viewing but available only to close family members at a yet to be determined time and day. After all, Geoff's body still lay in the State coroners morgue and none of us were sure when he would be transported to the WN Bull facility.
Linda then suggested that we make an appointment with Our Lady of Fatima to make sure of their availability to conduct the service. She mentioned that she had spoken to the church secretary and thought Wednesday afternoon (October 13) was a possibility. We quizzed her on a timeline for the process from this point and she suggested that the morgue could possibly release Geoff's body that afternoon or maybe the following day, Saturday. In any event they were appropriately staffed for that part of the process and would alert us when the transfer was completed. She indicated that in either case, no preparation of Geoff for a viewing could be started before Monday as that part of the facility was closed over the weekend. She asked me to contact her once they had possession of Geoff's body so that we could schedule the viewing.
Linda congratulated us on our ability to move through this difficult meeting and assured us that if we had second thoughts about any of the details we had some time to change our minds and they would accommodate us as best they could. At that, she excused herself and gave everyone in the room a hug. A wave of sadness, mixed with the emotional release of completing this heavy task overtook every one of us. Maggie then lead the group in The Lord's prayer. Altogether we were not satisfied at the "Amen" and implored JoJo to lead us in an appropriate Muslim prayer. After a very small amount of reluctance she instructed each of us to turn our hands in an upward manner, like 2 cups waiting to catch some rain as none of us had any experience with this custom. Jo then recited her selected verse which we all listened to with intensity. We thanked her and started to shuffle, collectively, toward the door, through the foyer from which we had earlier entered the conference room back out onto the brightly sunlit boulevard that was King Street.
Compared to when we arrived at the WN Bull facility, Newtown was at full throttle. The streets were packed with the traffic moving at a slow but steady pace. Pedestrians were moving with purpose up and down the sidewalks and we needed to stand to the side in order to not impede the locals hurrying to their lunch or to complete their shopping with whatever little time they had obviously allowed themselves. It seemed that all the shops, restaurants and other public buildings were buzzing with activity. Luke suggested we find a place to have lunch and we stumbled around a bit before deciding on the Sumalee Thai restaurant in the Bank Hotel. Melissa used her IPhone to track down Jeanette and Candi to ask them if they would like to join us. They were about 30 minutes away and agreed to meet us in the restaurant.
We made our way to the restaurant and ordered drinks (the adult kind) and a plate of hot chips to hold us over until Jeanette and Candi turned up. They arrived as promised about 30 minutes after we had and then the group ordered a selection of appetizers and Thai dishes that we shared family style. Candi told us about their morning and kept the mood light for all of us after our trying visit to the funeral home. There were plenty of questions about police work in L.A. that had involved Officer Candace and she obliged one and all with tales of her exploits. It was just what we needed at the time.
After we had finished our lunch we broke up into 3 groups and most of us headed back to Robin's with Luke going to his home. We agreed we would contact the church to discuss the details for the service and Our Lady of Fatima's availability as soon as we arrived in Bexley North.
When we arrived at Robin's we contacted the church office and made an appointment to speak with one of the priests the next afternoon (Saturday) at the office. Soon after that, the phone rang, Robin answered it and after a short conversation, which I was not overhearing, she handed the telephone to me and said "It's the Coroner, they would like to speak with you". I identified myself and a pleasant enough young lady came on the line. She began speaking to me in a clear and practiced manner "Mr. Loe, we have performed an autopsy on your son, Geoffrey, and our preliminary findings are that the cause of death was Lymphoma". My brain began spinning around in my skull. How could this be? How could the cause of death be Lymphoma when we were told he died of cardiac arrest and had an infection; glandular fever? We believed Geoff's Lymphoma had been in remission and he had all the requisite follow ups how could it be possible that had been the causation of the death of our precious Geoff? I'm sure I peppered the young lady with all of these questions without waiting for her to answer. When I finished with my diatribe she began to explain what they refer to as the "coronial process": This statement as to the cause of death was preliminary in nature and in fact the death certificate for Geoff would be issued with no cause of death indicated. Based on the observations of the attending examiner at Geoff's autopsy he concluded, based on a visual inspection, that there was a significant number of enlarged lymph nodes that ranged from his sinuses to his groin. They had removed any number of his internal organs as well as tissue samples from various parts of his body and they would be sending those to laboratories for analysis. The analysis would include a number of different procedures to assist in the final determination and some of those analyses would take a good amount of time before they could know the results. She also stated that they would be obtaining the medical records from Geoff's doctors to be reviewed by their staff and that they would also be interviewing the doctors that had treated him. I then asked her for an estimate on how long she thought that process would take. She blew me away with the answer "We anticipate the findings will be available in eight to twelve months". The caller made sure I had contact information for the coroner's office and that I knew the process for applying to receive a copy of the autopsy findings, once available. She also told us that they had been in contact with WN Bull and that arrangements had been made to transport Geoff from their facility to that of WN Bull.
I was stunned. I thanked her and hung up the phone. I repeated the conversation for everyone in the room and they were all equally shocked about this surprising analysis. Robin and I agreed we would make an appointment with Geoff's hematolgists who had been treating him since he was first diagnosed with the Lymphoma in 2007 as soon as we could get in to see them. We had 2 Macbook computers in the dining room at the house in Bexley North, one belonging to Jo and the other had been Geoff's. I grabbed Geoff's notebook and started investigating on my own any possible answer to what was now a thoroughly confusing puzzle.
Linda then brought up the idea of a viewing. She reminded us that the Catholic service would not allow an open casket so the opportunity to view Geoff's body was only available at the office of WN Bull. I knew I had to do that. I had not seen Geoff for some time before he died and never once doubted that was what I wanted to do. Candi also wanted to be involved. We concluded that we would like to have a viewing but available only to close family members at a yet to be determined time and day. After all, Geoff's body still lay in the State coroners morgue and none of us were sure when he would be transported to the WN Bull facility.
Linda then suggested that we make an appointment with Our Lady of Fatima to make sure of their availability to conduct the service. She mentioned that she had spoken to the church secretary and thought Wednesday afternoon (October 13) was a possibility. We quizzed her on a timeline for the process from this point and she suggested that the morgue could possibly release Geoff's body that afternoon or maybe the following day, Saturday. In any event they were appropriately staffed for that part of the process and would alert us when the transfer was completed. She indicated that in either case, no preparation of Geoff for a viewing could be started before Monday as that part of the facility was closed over the weekend. She asked me to contact her once they had possession of Geoff's body so that we could schedule the viewing.
Linda congratulated us on our ability to move through this difficult meeting and assured us that if we had second thoughts about any of the details we had some time to change our minds and they would accommodate us as best they could. At that, she excused herself and gave everyone in the room a hug. A wave of sadness, mixed with the emotional release of completing this heavy task overtook every one of us. Maggie then lead the group in The Lord's prayer. Altogether we were not satisfied at the "Amen" and implored JoJo to lead us in an appropriate Muslim prayer. After a very small amount of reluctance she instructed each of us to turn our hands in an upward manner, like 2 cups waiting to catch some rain as none of us had any experience with this custom. Jo then recited her selected verse which we all listened to with intensity. We thanked her and started to shuffle, collectively, toward the door, through the foyer from which we had earlier entered the conference room back out onto the brightly sunlit boulevard that was King Street.
Compared to when we arrived at the WN Bull facility, Newtown was at full throttle. The streets were packed with the traffic moving at a slow but steady pace. Pedestrians were moving with purpose up and down the sidewalks and we needed to stand to the side in order to not impede the locals hurrying to their lunch or to complete their shopping with whatever little time they had obviously allowed themselves. It seemed that all the shops, restaurants and other public buildings were buzzing with activity. Luke suggested we find a place to have lunch and we stumbled around a bit before deciding on the Sumalee Thai restaurant in the Bank Hotel. Melissa used her IPhone to track down Jeanette and Candi to ask them if they would like to join us. They were about 30 minutes away and agreed to meet us in the restaurant.
We made our way to the restaurant and ordered drinks (the adult kind) and a plate of hot chips to hold us over until Jeanette and Candi turned up. They arrived as promised about 30 minutes after we had and then the group ordered a selection of appetizers and Thai dishes that we shared family style. Candi told us about their morning and kept the mood light for all of us after our trying visit to the funeral home. There were plenty of questions about police work in L.A. that had involved Officer Candace and she obliged one and all with tales of her exploits. It was just what we needed at the time.
After we had finished our lunch we broke up into 3 groups and most of us headed back to Robin's with Luke going to his home. We agreed we would contact the church to discuss the details for the service and Our Lady of Fatima's availability as soon as we arrived in Bexley North.
When we arrived at Robin's we contacted the church office and made an appointment to speak with one of the priests the next afternoon (Saturday) at the office. Soon after that, the phone rang, Robin answered it and after a short conversation, which I was not overhearing, she handed the telephone to me and said "It's the Coroner, they would like to speak with you". I identified myself and a pleasant enough young lady came on the line. She began speaking to me in a clear and practiced manner "Mr. Loe, we have performed an autopsy on your son, Geoffrey, and our preliminary findings are that the cause of death was Lymphoma". My brain began spinning around in my skull. How could this be? How could the cause of death be Lymphoma when we were told he died of cardiac arrest and had an infection; glandular fever? We believed Geoff's Lymphoma had been in remission and he had all the requisite follow ups how could it be possible that had been the causation of the death of our precious Geoff? I'm sure I peppered the young lady with all of these questions without waiting for her to answer. When I finished with my diatribe she began to explain what they refer to as the "coronial process": This statement as to the cause of death was preliminary in nature and in fact the death certificate for Geoff would be issued with no cause of death indicated. Based on the observations of the attending examiner at Geoff's autopsy he concluded, based on a visual inspection, that there was a significant number of enlarged lymph nodes that ranged from his sinuses to his groin. They had removed any number of his internal organs as well as tissue samples from various parts of his body and they would be sending those to laboratories for analysis. The analysis would include a number of different procedures to assist in the final determination and some of those analyses would take a good amount of time before they could know the results. She also stated that they would be obtaining the medical records from Geoff's doctors to be reviewed by their staff and that they would also be interviewing the doctors that had treated him. I then asked her for an estimate on how long she thought that process would take. She blew me away with the answer "We anticipate the findings will be available in eight to twelve months". The caller made sure I had contact information for the coroner's office and that I knew the process for applying to receive a copy of the autopsy findings, once available. She also told us that they had been in contact with WN Bull and that arrangements had been made to transport Geoff from their facility to that of WN Bull.
I was stunned. I thanked her and hung up the phone. I repeated the conversation for everyone in the room and they were all equally shocked about this surprising analysis. Robin and I agreed we would make an appointment with Geoff's hematolgists who had been treating him since he was first diagnosed with the Lymphoma in 2007 as soon as we could get in to see them. We had 2 Macbook computers in the dining room at the house in Bexley North, one belonging to Jo and the other had been Geoff's. I grabbed Geoff's notebook and started investigating on my own any possible answer to what was now a thoroughly confusing puzzle.
Monday, November 22, 2010
Plans and Preparation
I was a little worried that it would take me some time to adjust to the clock of the southern hemisphere but considering the reality that no real sleep had been achieved (at least not in a reclining position) for the past 48 hours and the bed that was located in my selected room was surprisingly comfortable, I was able to quickly fall asleep after we turned out the lights. Staying asleep was much more of a challenge. I don't believe I dreamed at all, not that night or any night I was in Australia, but my mind was spinning with thoughts and memories of Geoff. I've always been able to process information in my sleep and quite often awaken to the solution of a business problem or knowing exactly how I was going to handle a situation. Sometimes when traveling, I will wake up in the night and be insecure as to where I am for a few moments. I was acutely aware at 2 a.m. after having been asleep for less than 2 hours that I was in Darlinghurst, staying in a rented townhouse, laying in bed in an upstairs room at the top of some scary stairway, one of my daughters asleep in the room next door and I was there because my only son had died during that previous 48 sleepless hours at 26 years of age. I knew it was 2 in the morning because the display on Robin's borrowed mobile phone told me it was so. I only wished I was dreaming.
After wrestling with my pillows for another 2 hours I finally decided to negotiate the stairway. Not wanting to wake Candi, who I knew to be a very sound sleeper in any event, I tried to be as quiet as possible. We left the light on at the top of the stairway as a beacon to warn a sleepy inhabitant of 21 A Taylor Street to pay attention before any descent on the dreaded stairs. Leaning against the exposed brick wall interior to the staircase (because there was no railing on the side bordering the abyss) I made the trip uneventfully and more importantly, quietly. I then made myself multiple cups of coffee (using an instant cappuccino mix we had picked up with some groceries on the trip to the townhouse the evening before) and spent the next couple of hours seated at the breakfast bar, balancing on a stool that was ill-suited for actual sitting, alone with my thoughts, memories and sorrow. I had to make a mental note to buy a couple of boxes of kleenex.
Knowing that I was to meet Robin, Mag, Melissa and Jo at the WN Bull office in Newtown at 10 a.m. I calculated that if Candi was not awake by 8 a.m. I would be her personal alarm clock. Jeanette had offered to pick Candi up at about the same time that Luke would call for me and take her to Darling Harbor for breakfast. One thing we never discovered in that house was a clock of any kind. Luke was going to pick me up at half past 9 and accompany me to the meeting. The dawn began to appear about 6:30 and having spent enough time staring into my rather large coffee cup I decided to take a walk around our little neighborhood. Being a Friday, there was a fair amount of commotion outside our door with the citizens of Darlinghurst walking their dogs, jogging, leaving for work and many of the other things Sydneysiders do on a week day morning. I was out for about an hour and then returned to yet another cup of the instant caffeine jolt. At precisely 8 o'clock I navigated the ascent of the evil stairway and knocked on Candi's bedroom door. She acknowledged my persistent tapping and made her way down the staircase where I set her up with her own cappuccino and she made the triggering interrogatory "how are you doing?" I wanted to scream "How am I doing? How do you think I'm doing? I'm 8000 miles away from home, my only son is dead, I don't know why, I'm headed to a funeral home to discuss what to do now" but instead I looked into her eyes and she took the cue to give me a hug which caused me to sob sorrowfully on her shoulder.
We took turns in the bathroom and shower and I made myself some breakfast with the cereal, yogurt and fruit we had snagged with Jeanette's help the evening before at the supermarket. Luke rolled up right on time and I headed to Newtown, to the office of WN Bull Funerals, to meet with Linda Graham-McCann JP (I don't have a clue what the JP represents) about what our next steps would be. Candi waited at the townhouse for Jeanette.
As Luke piloted his sedan toward Newtown the neighborhood started to look somewhat familiar to me. Sydney, outside the Central Business District, is a conglomeration of unplanned neighborhoods with business districts, office buildings, train stations, churches, schools, hospitals and commercial facilities co-existing with residential neighborhoods in close proximity. As we approached the Newtown area I recognized the landscape as one where a number of universities were located and the surrounding commercial strips provided the support services for thousands of college aged Aussies with restaurants, cafes, booksellers, chemists, news agents and art supply stores densely located among the tattoo parlors and piercing studios. Ethnic restaurants for every culture dotted the main drag, King Street. As we approached 164 King Street, the address of WN Bull, I observed a sign for "ThaiRiffic" at 109 King Street. Wasn't this the place that was one of Geoff's favorites? Isn't this the restaurant where he had Mitzi and me meet him after he was off work one evening the last time I was in Sydney, where I insecurely boarded a bus in Darling Harbor and navigated my way there using only the public transportation system? Isn't this the same place where we met JoJo and shared multiple plates of delicious Thai preparations, family style, deftly ordered by Geoff for all our enjoyment? I was sure it was, even though in the brilliant sunlight the exterior looked nothing like it did that night basked in all the artificial multi-colored lights of the neighborhood. Not only had I been to Newtown before but I remembered that I enjoyed myself immensely. How ironic it was that the recommended funeral director was doors away from one of his favorite restaurants in a neighborhood where he had many memorable experiences.
Luke and I waited outside the entrance and very soon after we arrived Robin, Mag and Melissa walked up with Joanne. We entered the double doors of the WN Bull office on King Street to a reception area understatedly furnished with upholstered chairs, a coffee table and various stand up displays with brochures all exhibiting covers adorned with sunsets and birds in flight. The reception area gave off the aura of serious confidence. Directly opposite the twin front doors was a singular etched glass door with a button set into the wall on the side that was obviously a doorbell or buzzer that was to be rung to summon whomsoever from the area behind the wood panelled separation of the foyer from the rooms that lay beyond. Luke engaged the buzzer and a middle aged woman appeared from behind the door. After we identified ourselves she greeted us very somberly, invited us into the next room and asked us if we would like cups of tea or coffee while we waited for Ms. Graham-McCann. She then left to fulfill the various requests.
Linda Graham-McCann (Linda) soon entered the room, introduced herself and we then performed self introductions. After a mandatory period of condolence expressions she deftly laid out the course we were there to navigate. Would we be having a service? We responded with our desire to have a service at Our Lady of Fatima in Kingsgrove that, in fact, had referred us to WN Bull. We had not decided whether that service would include a Catholic Mass. Would Geoff be buried or cremated?
At dinner the previous evening there was conversation about what some of us thought Geoff would have wanted but no decision was forthcoming. For a fact, Geoff never confided in me any thoughts about funerals or burials. After all, he was the quintessential, immortal young man and would surely outlive me. What point was there in discussing your desires for a funeral with your father? It was also self-evident he had not had that discussion with his mother or sister, either, but I came away from the previous evening with the firm belief that Geoff would not want to be buried but would choose to be cremated and then have his ashes released in various places as he was all about freedom and expression. Melissa stated she believed much the same. Robin had taken all the viewpoints in with no statement of her perspective in that regard. I did have concerns, though, that the Catholic Church may have rules associated with cremation to the point where I was insecure that they allowed it at all. I expressed that concern to Linda who assured us it was no longer the position of the Catholic Church to insist on burial and that they freely allowed cremation.
Linda mediated the discussion there in the conference room at WN Bull. The initial speakers were Melissa and myself and we both iterated our belief that Geoff would have opted for cremation. Robin chose not to speak but listened intently to our points of view. As if by direction all eyes in the room turned to look at JoJo. Understanding that Jo was raised in a Muslim family and that we were pretty ignorant of Muslim customs and traditions, especially when it came to funerals, burials and things of that nature I'm sure most of the people in that room were as insecure as I was about what she would have to say on the subject. On the other hand, wasn't it likely that our son, nephew, brother had confided in the love of his life about what his plans may be in the case the unthinkable ever became a reality? After all, although he refused to accept that it was anything but an inconvenience, Geoff had been treated for Lymphoma soon after he and Jo became an item. Surely in an unusual moment of mortal acknowledgment Geoff would have or at least could have let her know his wishes.
Jo began to speak. She told us in a clear and certain voice that yes, she and Geoff had that discussion. That she had told Geoff that were she to predecease him her desire would be to be buried in a tandem grave and wait for Geoff, however long that may be. My heart sank. Hearing Jo's words that were heartfelt and sincere I was preparing myself for the reality that Geoff may have concurred with her wishes and expressed his desire to follow the same course. How could we be so wrong in our assessment of his wishes? Joanne continued in a very clear voice. She said that upon hearing Jo's desire Geoff told her that he would not want to be buried in the ground. Jo admitted she was disappointed with his thinking and decision but that she wanted to honor what she believed were his wishes and that was to be cremated. I was amazed that this young woman could be so forthcoming and honest in this situation and subjugate her own desires to that of her now dead boyfriend. No wonder our son so loved Joanne. After listening to her words I think we all broke down simultaneously.
After wrestling with my pillows for another 2 hours I finally decided to negotiate the stairway. Not wanting to wake Candi, who I knew to be a very sound sleeper in any event, I tried to be as quiet as possible. We left the light on at the top of the stairway as a beacon to warn a sleepy inhabitant of 21 A Taylor Street to pay attention before any descent on the dreaded stairs. Leaning against the exposed brick wall interior to the staircase (because there was no railing on the side bordering the abyss) I made the trip uneventfully and more importantly, quietly. I then made myself multiple cups of coffee (using an instant cappuccino mix we had picked up with some groceries on the trip to the townhouse the evening before) and spent the next couple of hours seated at the breakfast bar, balancing on a stool that was ill-suited for actual sitting, alone with my thoughts, memories and sorrow. I had to make a mental note to buy a couple of boxes of kleenex.
Knowing that I was to meet Robin, Mag, Melissa and Jo at the WN Bull office in Newtown at 10 a.m. I calculated that if Candi was not awake by 8 a.m. I would be her personal alarm clock. Jeanette had offered to pick Candi up at about the same time that Luke would call for me and take her to Darling Harbor for breakfast. One thing we never discovered in that house was a clock of any kind. Luke was going to pick me up at half past 9 and accompany me to the meeting. The dawn began to appear about 6:30 and having spent enough time staring into my rather large coffee cup I decided to take a walk around our little neighborhood. Being a Friday, there was a fair amount of commotion outside our door with the citizens of Darlinghurst walking their dogs, jogging, leaving for work and many of the other things Sydneysiders do on a week day morning. I was out for about an hour and then returned to yet another cup of the instant caffeine jolt. At precisely 8 o'clock I navigated the ascent of the evil stairway and knocked on Candi's bedroom door. She acknowledged my persistent tapping and made her way down the staircase where I set her up with her own cappuccino and she made the triggering interrogatory "how are you doing?" I wanted to scream "How am I doing? How do you think I'm doing? I'm 8000 miles away from home, my only son is dead, I don't know why, I'm headed to a funeral home to discuss what to do now" but instead I looked into her eyes and she took the cue to give me a hug which caused me to sob sorrowfully on her shoulder.
We took turns in the bathroom and shower and I made myself some breakfast with the cereal, yogurt and fruit we had snagged with Jeanette's help the evening before at the supermarket. Luke rolled up right on time and I headed to Newtown, to the office of WN Bull Funerals, to meet with Linda Graham-McCann JP (I don't have a clue what the JP represents) about what our next steps would be. Candi waited at the townhouse for Jeanette.
As Luke piloted his sedan toward Newtown the neighborhood started to look somewhat familiar to me. Sydney, outside the Central Business District, is a conglomeration of unplanned neighborhoods with business districts, office buildings, train stations, churches, schools, hospitals and commercial facilities co-existing with residential neighborhoods in close proximity. As we approached the Newtown area I recognized the landscape as one where a number of universities were located and the surrounding commercial strips provided the support services for thousands of college aged Aussies with restaurants, cafes, booksellers, chemists, news agents and art supply stores densely located among the tattoo parlors and piercing studios. Ethnic restaurants for every culture dotted the main drag, King Street. As we approached 164 King Street, the address of WN Bull, I observed a sign for "ThaiRiffic" at 109 King Street. Wasn't this the place that was one of Geoff's favorites? Isn't this the restaurant where he had Mitzi and me meet him after he was off work one evening the last time I was in Sydney, where I insecurely boarded a bus in Darling Harbor and navigated my way there using only the public transportation system? Isn't this the same place where we met JoJo and shared multiple plates of delicious Thai preparations, family style, deftly ordered by Geoff for all our enjoyment? I was sure it was, even though in the brilliant sunlight the exterior looked nothing like it did that night basked in all the artificial multi-colored lights of the neighborhood. Not only had I been to Newtown before but I remembered that I enjoyed myself immensely. How ironic it was that the recommended funeral director was doors away from one of his favorite restaurants in a neighborhood where he had many memorable experiences.
Luke and I waited outside the entrance and very soon after we arrived Robin, Mag and Melissa walked up with Joanne. We entered the double doors of the WN Bull office on King Street to a reception area understatedly furnished with upholstered chairs, a coffee table and various stand up displays with brochures all exhibiting covers adorned with sunsets and birds in flight. The reception area gave off the aura of serious confidence. Directly opposite the twin front doors was a singular etched glass door with a button set into the wall on the side that was obviously a doorbell or buzzer that was to be rung to summon whomsoever from the area behind the wood panelled separation of the foyer from the rooms that lay beyond. Luke engaged the buzzer and a middle aged woman appeared from behind the door. After we identified ourselves she greeted us very somberly, invited us into the next room and asked us if we would like cups of tea or coffee while we waited for Ms. Graham-McCann. She then left to fulfill the various requests.
Linda Graham-McCann (Linda) soon entered the room, introduced herself and we then performed self introductions. After a mandatory period of condolence expressions she deftly laid out the course we were there to navigate. Would we be having a service? We responded with our desire to have a service at Our Lady of Fatima in Kingsgrove that, in fact, had referred us to WN Bull. We had not decided whether that service would include a Catholic Mass. Would Geoff be buried or cremated?
At dinner the previous evening there was conversation about what some of us thought Geoff would have wanted but no decision was forthcoming. For a fact, Geoff never confided in me any thoughts about funerals or burials. After all, he was the quintessential, immortal young man and would surely outlive me. What point was there in discussing your desires for a funeral with your father? It was also self-evident he had not had that discussion with his mother or sister, either, but I came away from the previous evening with the firm belief that Geoff would not want to be buried but would choose to be cremated and then have his ashes released in various places as he was all about freedom and expression. Melissa stated she believed much the same. Robin had taken all the viewpoints in with no statement of her perspective in that regard. I did have concerns, though, that the Catholic Church may have rules associated with cremation to the point where I was insecure that they allowed it at all. I expressed that concern to Linda who assured us it was no longer the position of the Catholic Church to insist on burial and that they freely allowed cremation.
Linda mediated the discussion there in the conference room at WN Bull. The initial speakers were Melissa and myself and we both iterated our belief that Geoff would have opted for cremation. Robin chose not to speak but listened intently to our points of view. As if by direction all eyes in the room turned to look at JoJo. Understanding that Jo was raised in a Muslim family and that we were pretty ignorant of Muslim customs and traditions, especially when it came to funerals, burials and things of that nature I'm sure most of the people in that room were as insecure as I was about what she would have to say on the subject. On the other hand, wasn't it likely that our son, nephew, brother had confided in the love of his life about what his plans may be in the case the unthinkable ever became a reality? After all, although he refused to accept that it was anything but an inconvenience, Geoff had been treated for Lymphoma soon after he and Jo became an item. Surely in an unusual moment of mortal acknowledgment Geoff would have or at least could have let her know his wishes.
Jo began to speak. She told us in a clear and certain voice that yes, she and Geoff had that discussion. That she had told Geoff that were she to predecease him her desire would be to be buried in a tandem grave and wait for Geoff, however long that may be. My heart sank. Hearing Jo's words that were heartfelt and sincere I was preparing myself for the reality that Geoff may have concurred with her wishes and expressed his desire to follow the same course. How could we be so wrong in our assessment of his wishes? Joanne continued in a very clear voice. She said that upon hearing Jo's desire Geoff told her that he would not want to be buried in the ground. Jo admitted she was disappointed with his thinking and decision but that she wanted to honor what she believed were his wishes and that was to be cremated. I was amazed that this young woman could be so forthcoming and honest in this situation and subjugate her own desires to that of her now dead boyfriend. No wonder our son so loved Joanne. After listening to her words I think we all broke down simultaneously.
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| The WN Bull Funeral Home in Newtown, NSW, Australia |
Sunday, November 21, 2010
21 A Taylor Street, Darlinghurst, NSW
The unit that Jeanette arranged for us was a 2 story row house in a neighborhood of similar buildings, along with some larger apartment complexes. The row houses in this area are in the range of 150 to 175 years old, made almost entirely of brick and the fronts abut the sidewalk with a small patio area out the back (accessible only from inside the unit). The downstairs consisted of a small living room, dining area and kitchen. Behind the kitchen and next to the patio area was the only bathroom. Upstairs there were 2 bedrooms separated by a narrow hallway. By American standards the place was tiny for a 2 bedroom townhouse: Total square footage was about 760 square feet (67 square meters); the living room was 150 sq. ft. (14 sm); the kitchen/dining area 210 sq. ft. (19 sm); the upstairs bedrooms were 120 sq. ft. each (11 sm) and the bathroom 60 sq. ft. (5.5 sm). An absolutely treacherous stairway without a railing lead from the downstairs area to the bedrooms. It seemed incredibly steep and I feared waking up in the night, having to use the bathroom and taking a tumble down the stairs; or worse, having Candi slip or fall as the individual stairs were a highly polished hardwood. The unit had been recently updated and remodeled. The flooring was hardwood in the living areas, carpeted bedrooms and tile in the bathroom. The patio area had a small zen garden with a little goldfish pond cut into the wood deck. The kitchen and bathroom had been fitted with euro style cabinets, appliances, sinks and hardware and was fully stocked with linens, towels, dishes, cutlery, pots and pans. There was built-in fridge, dishwasher and combination clothes washer/dryer contained in a single unit, the likes of which I had never seen before. The combo clothes washing unit wasn't particularly efficient, especially with the drying part, but sure beat whatever the alternative might be. The unit had a metal roof and when it would rain, especially at night, the falling rain tapped out a soothing rhythm. The photos I included below were taken with my Droid (Verizon) which was useless on this trip because I didn't have the required "V" chip installed. At this time I had Robin's mobile phone for communication purposes. The unit had no telephone but did have FoxTel (the equivalent of Cable TV). There was no heating or air conditioning built in. Heat, which we needed on the chilly mornings, was supplied by a portable ceramic heater that was surprisingly efficient. If it became too warm we just opened some windows.
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| 21 A Taylor Street |
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| Candi fixing breakfast in the kitchen |
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| Dining area with "that" stairway in the background |
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| Patio area leading into kitchen |
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| Zen garden and fish pond |
The neighborhood
Friday, November 19, 2010
Jeanette, Apartments and Funeral Homes
Jeanette (Net or Nettie) has a heart as big as all outdoors and a personality larger than that. She jumped on the assignment to find accommodation for Candi and me by contacting a few rental agencies and was provided some leads which she sorted through based on her knowledge of the particular neighborhoods, viewing photos on the internet. She picked out one unit in particular. It was a 2 bedroom, located in the beach area of Cronulla, not too far from Robin's and seemed perfect. Cronulla beach is a favorite of the citizens that live in and around Bexley North, like Kingsgrove, Kogarah, Beverly Hills (yes, there is) and although out popularized by Bondi Beach, which is known the world over, it is typically preferred by families because it tends to be less crowded than some of the better known tourist destinations. Cronulla was a favorite of Geoff's and he spent many a summer day boogie boarding and taking walks on the crescent shaped beach. I thought it would be perfect on many levels and asked her to go ahead and complete the booking.
Alas, by the time she could confirm the booking, the unit was no longer available. Nettie then went back to studying her leads and came across another 2 bedroom townhouse that was in an area called "Darlinghurst" which was quite close to the Central Business District (CBD) of Sydney. She seemed to have some concerns about the location and referred to a number of maps and photos of the unit on the Internet. Nettie, Mag and Luke looked at the photos and maps together and after a certain amount of discussion decided that the location, although bordering on a challenging neighborhood, was probably acceptable and that the unit itself looked to be very nice. It was getting to be late afternoon and not wanting to lose out on another opportunity I told her to go ahead and complete the arrangements for this unit. I didn't fancy Candi or me crashing on someones sofa after having no real sleep for the past couple of days. I liked the idea of being close to the CBD as there are a substantial number of parks, gardens, shopping areas, museums and other facilities close by and since I tend to rise much earlier in the morning than most of the rest of my family need those kinds of diversions to motivate me to get out and walk while they catch up on their sleep. Nettie offered that she lived relatively close by the apartment and would be happy to drop us there on her way home that evening. I had no interest in having a car myself as I didn't want to deal with the backwards, to me, system and besides, the public transportation in Sydney is far superior to anything we have in California.
Luke had obtained a telephone number for me for the W.N. Bull funeral home in Newtown. I phoned and a pleasant enough woman answered and debriefed me as to the purpose of my call. Its self evident that these folks have to be expert in getting inbound callers to communicate about a most challenging situation. The woman on the telephone explained in an empathetic voice that we should make an appointment to visit the facility, meet with one of their counselors and that all the details we needed, to make some more decisions we were not prepared for, would be provided in that meeting. She also suggested that once we had that meeting they could contact the coroner's office directly to coordinate the transfer of Geoff from the morgue to the funeral home. We agreed we would meet at their facility the next morning, Friday, the 8th of October, at 10:00 a.m..
When that arrangement had been completed Luke and I climbed into his vehicle and headed to Kingsgrove, a few miles away, to visit Robin's mother, Geoff's grandmother, Shirley Stanley. She had been at hospital off and on during the previous day and was well aware of the circumstances. I insisted we make the visit in any event as I felt I wanted to see her as soon as possible. While en route to Shirley's home Luke gave me some additional information about the area where we were going to be staying in Darlinghurst. "When we were younger we used to call it "Darling It Hurts"" He chortled as he explained to me that the neighborhood lay very close to Kings Cross, the notorious red light district of Sydney but was adjacent to Paddington, a gentrified older neighborhood of expensive row houses and trendy shops. Luke then spent a few minutes describing the neighborhood and the "wildlife" as he called it. As we pulled into Shirley's driveway he ended the conversation with this statement about spending the next couple of weeks in Darlinghurst "You're gonna L-O-O-VE it!!" Luke has this ability to deliver statements like this by adding an additional vowel which is delivered from somewhere south of his vocal chords with all the finesse of a roundhouse punch. We spent the next hour, or so, having a beer with Mrs. Stanley and discussing the events of the last couple of days. I was happy I was able to spend the time with her. Luke then needed to head home to his wife and children so he dropped me back at Robin's and Shirley followed us there in her own vehicle
It was now early evening and dinner was being prepared by Robin's friends, Victoria (Vicky) Pappas and Tina Sundstrom. I have known Vicky and Tina for 30 years and they have been the most loyal and supportive of friends to Robin during that entire stretch along with the many years before I knew them. The group assembled around the kitchen table and were pretty evenly divided between the emotional eaters (I am in that group) and the emotional non-eaters (Robin fits here). All of us "eaters" are constantly coaching the "non-eaters" to put substantial amounts of chicken, salad and bread into their mouths with limited success. I never heard any of the "non-eaters" tell the rest of us to quit eating, though. Whether an eater or a non-eater the wine and beer seemed to go down easier than the food for everyone. Our homogenized families are made up of mostly Northern European ancestors; Irish, English, Norweigian. When I think of us as a group and how we typically handle our feelings I think it can best be described as we swallow them, chased by a glass of the house red or white. We spent the time at the table relating stories about Geoff, all of them good. Jeanette and I dusted off a running joke we have had for 30 years having to do with an Irish jellyfish which is punctuated at the end of the joke with the words "BOOM BOOM", put in for emphasis as an emulation of a rim shot on a drum. The joke has been funny (at least to Nettie and me) for low these many years because it has to be repeated, complete with the boom boom ending, numerous times before most in the room "get it". In this case, JoJo, Geoff's girlfriend, left the dinner table still not understanding the punch line, regardless of the number of times we tried to explain it. Funny or not, the lightness of the moment was exactly what we needed.
Right after dinner, acknowledging that it had been a long day for everyone, we packed up and headed out to find our home for the next period of time in Darlinghurst. There were tearful hugs and sorrowful "see you tomorrows" for everyone. Jeanette jumped behind the wheel of "Tiffany" (her pet name for her middle aged automobile) and guided her deftly through the roundabouts and one way streets so prevalent in this part of the world. It took us about 20 minutes to reach the neighborhood and almost an equal amount of time to actually find the unit as the streets were typically one way, and seemed to start and stop at random intersections with other one way streets. I started noticing the store fronts along the commercial area adjacent to where our apartment was located. "Bodyline 2000", "The Toolshed" and a bottle shop aptly titled "Lickher Shoppe" were just a few that stood out with neon lighting everywhere among the rainbow flags on nearly every establishment. Jeanette had a laugh about it and said we had nothing to worry about. Of course, even though Candi is 36 years of age and an officer in the LAPD I was still a little embarrassed for her to see these places. Just call it a "Dad" thing. We finally found the doorway for 21A Taylor Street, turned the key in the security door and then the actual door (why did I need a security door anyway if this was such a "great" neighborhood?). We said good night to Nettie, she pointed Tiffany back toward her home and we curiously checked out our temporary home. We each picked out a bedroom, stowed our luggage and went about the things one does when newly arrived in short term accommodations. I think we stayed up a while talking about the trip, the day but mostly about dear, sweet Geoffrey whom we would never have the opportunity to speak with again.
Alas, by the time she could confirm the booking, the unit was no longer available. Nettie then went back to studying her leads and came across another 2 bedroom townhouse that was in an area called "Darlinghurst" which was quite close to the Central Business District (CBD) of Sydney. She seemed to have some concerns about the location and referred to a number of maps and photos of the unit on the Internet. Nettie, Mag and Luke looked at the photos and maps together and after a certain amount of discussion decided that the location, although bordering on a challenging neighborhood, was probably acceptable and that the unit itself looked to be very nice. It was getting to be late afternoon and not wanting to lose out on another opportunity I told her to go ahead and complete the arrangements for this unit. I didn't fancy Candi or me crashing on someones sofa after having no real sleep for the past couple of days. I liked the idea of being close to the CBD as there are a substantial number of parks, gardens, shopping areas, museums and other facilities close by and since I tend to rise much earlier in the morning than most of the rest of my family need those kinds of diversions to motivate me to get out and walk while they catch up on their sleep. Nettie offered that she lived relatively close by the apartment and would be happy to drop us there on her way home that evening. I had no interest in having a car myself as I didn't want to deal with the backwards, to me, system and besides, the public transportation in Sydney is far superior to anything we have in California.
Luke had obtained a telephone number for me for the W.N. Bull funeral home in Newtown. I phoned and a pleasant enough woman answered and debriefed me as to the purpose of my call. Its self evident that these folks have to be expert in getting inbound callers to communicate about a most challenging situation. The woman on the telephone explained in an empathetic voice that we should make an appointment to visit the facility, meet with one of their counselors and that all the details we needed, to make some more decisions we were not prepared for, would be provided in that meeting. She also suggested that once we had that meeting they could contact the coroner's office directly to coordinate the transfer of Geoff from the morgue to the funeral home. We agreed we would meet at their facility the next morning, Friday, the 8th of October, at 10:00 a.m..
When that arrangement had been completed Luke and I climbed into his vehicle and headed to Kingsgrove, a few miles away, to visit Robin's mother, Geoff's grandmother, Shirley Stanley. She had been at hospital off and on during the previous day and was well aware of the circumstances. I insisted we make the visit in any event as I felt I wanted to see her as soon as possible. While en route to Shirley's home Luke gave me some additional information about the area where we were going to be staying in Darlinghurst. "When we were younger we used to call it "Darling It Hurts"" He chortled as he explained to me that the neighborhood lay very close to Kings Cross, the notorious red light district of Sydney but was adjacent to Paddington, a gentrified older neighborhood of expensive row houses and trendy shops. Luke then spent a few minutes describing the neighborhood and the "wildlife" as he called it. As we pulled into Shirley's driveway he ended the conversation with this statement about spending the next couple of weeks in Darlinghurst "You're gonna L-O-O-VE it!!" Luke has this ability to deliver statements like this by adding an additional vowel which is delivered from somewhere south of his vocal chords with all the finesse of a roundhouse punch. We spent the next hour, or so, having a beer with Mrs. Stanley and discussing the events of the last couple of days. I was happy I was able to spend the time with her. Luke then needed to head home to his wife and children so he dropped me back at Robin's and Shirley followed us there in her own vehicle
It was now early evening and dinner was being prepared by Robin's friends, Victoria (Vicky) Pappas and Tina Sundstrom. I have known Vicky and Tina for 30 years and they have been the most loyal and supportive of friends to Robin during that entire stretch along with the many years before I knew them. The group assembled around the kitchen table and were pretty evenly divided between the emotional eaters (I am in that group) and the emotional non-eaters (Robin fits here). All of us "eaters" are constantly coaching the "non-eaters" to put substantial amounts of chicken, salad and bread into their mouths with limited success. I never heard any of the "non-eaters" tell the rest of us to quit eating, though. Whether an eater or a non-eater the wine and beer seemed to go down easier than the food for everyone. Our homogenized families are made up of mostly Northern European ancestors; Irish, English, Norweigian. When I think of us as a group and how we typically handle our feelings I think it can best be described as we swallow them, chased by a glass of the house red or white. We spent the time at the table relating stories about Geoff, all of them good. Jeanette and I dusted off a running joke we have had for 30 years having to do with an Irish jellyfish which is punctuated at the end of the joke with the words "BOOM BOOM", put in for emphasis as an emulation of a rim shot on a drum. The joke has been funny (at least to Nettie and me) for low these many years because it has to be repeated, complete with the boom boom ending, numerous times before most in the room "get it". In this case, JoJo, Geoff's girlfriend, left the dinner table still not understanding the punch line, regardless of the number of times we tried to explain it. Funny or not, the lightness of the moment was exactly what we needed.
Right after dinner, acknowledging that it had been a long day for everyone, we packed up and headed out to find our home for the next period of time in Darlinghurst. There were tearful hugs and sorrowful "see you tomorrows" for everyone. Jeanette jumped behind the wheel of "Tiffany" (her pet name for her middle aged automobile) and guided her deftly through the roundabouts and one way streets so prevalent in this part of the world. It took us about 20 minutes to reach the neighborhood and almost an equal amount of time to actually find the unit as the streets were typically one way, and seemed to start and stop at random intersections with other one way streets. I started noticing the store fronts along the commercial area adjacent to where our apartment was located. "Bodyline 2000", "The Toolshed" and a bottle shop aptly titled "Lickher Shoppe" were just a few that stood out with neon lighting everywhere among the rainbow flags on nearly every establishment. Jeanette had a laugh about it and said we had nothing to worry about. Of course, even though Candi is 36 years of age and an officer in the LAPD I was still a little embarrassed for her to see these places. Just call it a "Dad" thing. We finally found the doorway for 21A Taylor Street, turned the key in the security door and then the actual door (why did I need a security door anyway if this was such a "great" neighborhood?). We said good night to Nettie, she pointed Tiffany back toward her home and we curiously checked out our temporary home. We each picked out a bedroom, stowed our luggage and went about the things one does when newly arrived in short term accommodations. I think we stayed up a while talking about the trip, the day but mostly about dear, sweet Geoffrey whom we would never have the opportunity to speak with again.
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