I awoke on this Tuesday morning in Darlinghurst with my thoughts focused on the events of the next two days. Today, Candi and I would be visiting the WN Bull facility in Newtown to view Geoff's body. I won't say I was nervous about that, I wanted to do it, but I was more than a little concerned about what my reactions might be and how it would make me feel. I tried to anticipate what it would be like so as to prepare myself for any potential outcome. I was also thinking about the eulogy I wanted to deliver at Geoff's service the next day and had some concerns there, as well. I wanted to be able to represent our family and convey our love and sense of loss about Geoff to those in attendance but having never done anything like this before I was anxious about my ability to pull it off. I had blown hot and cold the last couple of days on delivering the eulogy and at one point decided I would write it but someone else would need to read it to those in attendance. Then I delivered a stern lecture to myself with the admonition to do this for my son. I was going to deliver the eulogy tomorrow, come hell or high water.
I rolled over to get a look at the display on my mobile phone. Given that it was a little past 4 o'clock in the morning I gave myself permission to get out of bed. I carefully made my way downstairs and put the kettle on and readied the press to get that first cup of coffee started. I seated myself at the dining table in the same position I had assumed the previous day while reading the obituary in the Sydney Morning Herald. I grabbed my handwritten pages of Geoff's eulogy and read and re-read the paragraphs making appropriate changes along the way. At one point I had a sense of movement on the wall opposite where I was sitting. When I first looked up I saw nothing and went back to my writing. A few moments later, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a small red cockroach peering out from under the painting that adorned the wall. My natural instinct was to roll up some nearby newspaper and swat the bug but something inside me told me to leave it alone. I went back to my editing and poured my espresso into the cup. Every couple of minutes I would glance up at the spot where I first noticed the bug and it seemed to have disappeared. Then, after perhaps 5 or 6 minutes, the bug walked out from under the painting again and stood motionless on the wall perhaps a little more than arm's length away.
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| The painting on the dining room wall |
I started to recall the odd conversation I had with Linda from WN Bull regarding her conversion to Buddhism and her belief in rebirth and only possessing minimal knowledge about the concept I started fantasizing that maybe, just maybe, my son's spirit had taken on the form of this little red bug. I knew I was being silly but I made a bargain with myself that if I could get the bug to crawl onto the piece of newspaper that I was previously going to use to smash it I would set the cockroach free by taking it out to the patio and releasing it. As I carefully approached the bug I was surprised that it didn't try to run away as had been my experience with every other cockroach I had ever come across but seemed to docilely climb on the piece of the newspaper I coaxed in its direction. Now my mind is racing: "What if this really is Geoff? No, it couldn't be. But then again, what if it is? How could I be so foolish as to play along with this. It's a good thing nobody is around to see me acting like this or they would surely suggest I visit the nearest psychiatrist." I was silently laughing at my own behavior but was unwilling to stop. Once I had the bug on the paper I immediately reacted by taking it out to the back patio area with the intent to release it. As I opened the back door and stepped on to the decking I bent over and positioned the paper in my hand so as to give the newspaper a little flick of my wrist to provide some momentum to the cockroach for its escape. As I looked out over the patio I noticed a little Buddha statue at the very back wall that I had never noticed before. This eerily added to my confusion about the action I was about to take. Apparently I overestimated the weight of the little creature because when I flicked the newspaper I launched the unsuspecting bug straight into the fish pond that was cut into the patio deck. In a moment of a panic I raced over to the fish pond and saw the cockroach twirling around in the water. As I tried to grab it the waves created by my fist in the water pushed it ever farther below the surface and after 3 or 4 futile attempts at retrieving it I gave up. Surely if Geoff's spirit could have assumed the form of this bug he also could figure out how to get out of the fish pond on his own and find a more suitable vessel, I surmised. I then vacillated between silent but hysterical laughter and sadness but ultimately convinced myself that I had been an actor in a play that was written in my own overtaxed, desperate mind.
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| The fish pond in the Zen Garden |
I returned to my editing and when the display on my mobile phone reached that time which Candi and I had agreed was appropriate to wake her, I did. We had our now customary cup of coffee together and decided to go for a walk before breakfast and our trip to Newtown. We made breakfast when we returned and then readied ourselves for what we both believed was going to be a heartbreaking but necessary experience. We were dressed and ready a few minutes before Luke was to arrive and we sat in the living room watching a rerun of some American situation comedy. I heard the quick beeping of an automobile horn and looked out the security door to see a blue sedan double parked in front of the townhouse. I signaled to Candi and we locked the doors behind us as we climbed into Luke's vehicle to make the 20 minute trip to Newtown.
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| Buddha of the Patio |
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