One Year

6 October, 2011 was 365 Days since that fateful day; One year exactly.  I mentally checked off calendar squares leading up to this date wondering what was in store.  As every step of this journey has been, even the anniversary of Geoff's death is confusing.  What is today in California is tomorrow in Australia. Yesterday in Sydney is my today.  There was no confusion, however, when my smartphone told me it was 5:30 p.m. Wednesday afternoon Pacific Standard Time, that it was exactly one year since "The Call".

It's all fresh in my mind, still, I took the opportunity to revisit the details of those next devastating hours, days and weeks of a year gone by reading my own blog entries.  I listened to the haunting music that was played at Geoff's service at Our Lady of Fatima in Kingsgrove.  I poured over my mementos of Geoff (and my other children).  I laughed with tears in my eyes at some of the silly things I've kept among my treasures while happy to have what I do and wishing I had more.  I watched the slide presentation played at his wake.  I viewed the DVD that compiles years of bad videography by Dad but in many places includes the unmistakable voice of my son that accompanies his precious image.  I spoke with Robin and Melissa.  I received and responded to a text from Joanne.  Other important people in my life signaled their support in the various ways our electronic age allows.

I miss Geoff more than words can describe. I imagine him present when my intellectually knowing tells me he is not.  I can't help myself from wondering what might have been.  My instincts tell me Geoff would have been just as good a husband and father as he was a son, brother, nephew, cousin, friend.  I'll never know and yet somehow I do.

Reflecting on those hazy days of a year gone by a few things stick in the forefront of my conscious mind:

Geoff's body lying in The Tazmanian Blackwood Timber Coffin at the WN Bull funeral home;  cold, expressionless, unreal, diminutive, staged, empty.

My favorite memory of Geoff as an adult standing in the doorway of the guestroom at the Four Points Darling Harbour;  happy, loving, expectant, carefree, handsome.

Geoff perched with a toy guitar on the staircase at the Lake Tahoe ski resort in California at perhaps 2 1/2 years of age singing "Born in the U.S.A." (yes, he was).

The strength, courage and kindness of everyone:  family, friend, vendor, acquaintance during those dark days and the time since.  Some of Geoffrey's closest friends put together a heartwarming memorial in the form of a booklet with photos of happy times and personal letters about their relationships.  I was provided a copy by one of his good friends right about the time I was recovering from my surgery for tongue cancer in January. In every epistle the message was clear:  Geoffrey had positively impacted their lives in some meaningful way.  Typically, his mantra of positivity in all things left an indelible mark on their psyches combined with his love of art, music and food.  In every case his friends chose to dwell on that which they will always have rather than the things they had no longer.  It's a lesson I have been studying since.

Certain things that take place in my life are indicative of his spiritual presence.  The most recent manifestation is a card I purchased for my daughter, Melissa, commemorating this anniversary.  I chose this particular card from the hundreds available in the stationery store because of the beautiful ocean wave sculpture (albeit mass-produced) made of paper that frankly reminded me of Geoff and Melissa's love of the ocean and I told her so in the handwritten message.  When Melissa received the card at her home in Canberra, ACT, Australia she sent me a text:  "I just got home to your card in the mail box.  The way those waves are drawn comes from a Japanese style of art.  I had to recreate them for an art project in high school and Geoff helped me get the "swirls" right.  Could never draw like he could explain!  He's with us all the time."  I never saw the drawing or heard the story before Melissa's text message.

One final awareness that struck me as I wrote the first few words of this entry. Wanting to believe there is a message in the numerology of the date of Geoffrey's passing I struggle to understand the message while knowing it exists:  6 October, 2010 is the 6th day of the 10th month of the 10th year of the millennium. 6+10+10=26. Geoffrey's age when he died was 26 and every year after for the next 90 years that calendar date will equal his age using the same formula.