I suspect not. I didn’t feel you around anywhere.
I look down and think of you being cosy and safe in there, under the ground and the sprinkling of crusher dust or stones or whatever they are.
I wonder why they are there – to stop the soil being eroded maybe.
I know it’s not cosy down there, but the thought makes it all more bearable somehow.
It seemed appropriate to visit today when the day is so very grey … and yet as soon as that thought came I dismissed it. Because, despite everything, you shine – you shone then and you shine now – a beautiful , strong, glow of love and of life.
I was happy to notice the flowers today. I missed them somehow the last visits and on the day you were buried. Were they there then? I don’t know, but I’m glad they are there now. I’ve a long way to go with my photography!! But here, as in life, you have colour around you.
I like that view as I talk to you. Behind us, it’s a bit gloomy, but the trees remind me of home and they are so Australian – and no doubt they block out the noise of the freeway just behind them.
And opposite those, beyond the flowers and the headstones is the suburb – known for its low-income families, retirees, single mums fighting to raise decent kids – wait – that was you, once. You lived there in one of your escapes. Perhaps this really is going home for you.
You really did do a hugely good job, surviving the stress and horrible times and raising such beautiful kids. I think you probably know that and always did – particularly where the kids were concerned. I just wish you hadn’t had to pay such a price. But then you bore it with such good grace, such good grace.
I’m not sure why I visit this place, when I can talk to you any time, any where. It just seems right – paying homage, maybe, focusing on you and all that you stood for, and all that you gave.
And this is what we coaxed and prodded for – a place to visit you. Thank you so much for allowing it.
