The Saturnyne's Lounge

13.6.11 | Cerulean Blue

And so, a year on, and what have i learnt? What do i remember?

I've learnt, that no matter how closely we surround ourselves with friends... it doesn't compensate for not having love in your life. That no matter how hard you can try to pull away from the bad things in your past, they are still there, sending jarring echoes and ripples into the present, and for some people, those things will always cloud how they perceive you. I've learnt that it's when you're at your worst, that you will find your truest friends. You might never have met them, save via words on a computer screen, but oft, a message will slip into your inbox asking how you are and telling you that someone, somewhere, does indeed care about your wellbeing. Sometimes it makes you want to sit in a heap and cry. Because they are there and you are here. And you are still alone in the morning hours.

And what do i remember? I remember the hospice nurse knocking on my bedroom door with the words, calm, yet urgent "Paul. Your father's dying. Please come quickly". And so i enter the room, in a tumble of limbs caught in trailing clothing, no time to feel self-conscious in front of strangers and stopping suddenly in the achingly weighted atmosphere. He looks so small on his side. I haven't seen him lying on his side in over 5 years. They have made him comfortable and his breathing is deep and so very, very slow. No more morphine drips or cries of pain. I am almost too late. I whisper in his ear "I love you Dad. Thank you. Goodbye." and kiss him gently on his forehead. One more breath. Then another. Then a body lying there. That intangible thing that makes us unique has departed, i know not where. Heaven (he was worthy enough, aye) or other worlds beyond our ken. Leaving a collection of molecules that will now slowly unravel and disperse, given time... that two men will put in a sturdy black bag and carry unceremoniously down the steep stairs. I cannot watch.

Yet the thing i remember most about the day is the lady in the sandwich shop just an hour later. Relatives and friends had quickly gathered to offer condolences and i volunteered to get food for everyone. And i'm sitting there, waiting for my order, looking outwards and upwards at the blue sky through the window, when i hear her voice behind me.

"It's a beautiful day, isn't it?" she says.

And i half turn my head to look back at her, grateful for the sunglasses that hide my eyes.

And i smile.

And it's the best smile in the world.

And then i turn back to the cerulean sky to lose myself again.

"Yes. Yes it is".

(Several months later, my best friend is staying with me, and she tells me one evening, that she had snuck into my mum's and dad's room, where he died "to see if he was ok" and she tells me that the room felt so peaceful and free of pain and that she had spoken to him. Not in a silly spiritualist way or crazy madwoman way, but as a person who cares deeply for her friend and with great simplicity. She hesitates before telling me that she thinks he spoke back, like a voice in her head.

"He said Not to worry. And that everything was going to be ok".

I believe her. Sometimes that's all i believe.

2 comments :.

6:10 PM :.

gingerdolly hollered thusly:

No purple prose, no fancy quotes. Nothing but a straightforward metaphysical hug for you across the miles.

That was beautiful. A beautiful eulogy in every way.
Jane xx

5:24 AM :.

LiVEwiRe hollered thusly:

Sometimes clarity and a certain amount of comfort comes with time. As for the final words from your friend... sometimes I'd say that is the best thing to believe in.

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8.2.11 | Conversations With Mai Pumpkin (extracts from the past 6 months)

Numero une

"Oh go on"

"Ah HAHA ha!"

*snicker*
"Am waitin'....

"Give me some voice...

"Hehe"

"Don't cackle"
*barely suppressed restraint*

"Hehe"

"hah hah hah hah...

"go on, you're goin' liiive..."

*snicker*
*snicker*

"We're all listening' to you now... yeeeeeeeers"
*coaxing voice*

"Mmm-wanna know what yer saying!

*Short pause*

"Death To Mary Poppins!!!"

Numero Deux

"Salad is like ninja"

"What? That's the most ridiculous thing i've ever heard! Are you actually telling me that salad sits hiding on a hillside in the tall grass looking at it's prey through binoculars, stealthily biding its time for assassination?"

"It's subtle, isn't it? Who would believe...?"

2 comments :.

3:38 AM :.

stella hollered thusly:

Haha, all along I thought salad was waiting for some kind of creamy dressing to come along! :)

Hey, miss you my writing bud... :)

3:45 AM :.

The Saturnyne hollered thusly:

well if you wanna see my randomness when i'm not writing a blog, just add me on Facebook. It's Opal Luna Saturnyne
and on twitter it's @TheSaturnyne ofc!

Sometimes, i'm sad, though. My recent posts will tell you why. But if you don't mind sadness with the silliness, then that's where i am

Missed your words and voice, too, lovely Stella.

S.xxx

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| A Priest With Bagpipes?! Outrageous!!!

And then there was a wedding. I only caught one reasonably good picture on my phone camera and here it is! May Carl and Ruth have a wonderful life together.

It was worth it to see Carl dancing what I can only loosely describe as an embarrassed chicken scrabbling in a farmyard. In a suit. Still, you've got to admire his "pluck" eh, readers?

(Readers are allowed to groan inwardly at this point)

Oh yeah and the priest guy played them out of the church on his bagpipes. A wonderful caterwaul of surprise and horror.

This post was originally created at 07/08/10

3 comments :.

12:55 PM :.

carlberry hollered thusly:

A chicken ?

Chickens, sir, are quick and prone to rapid movements, clearly I was slow moving and ponderous. Cow like perhaps or a knackered shire horse days away from the glue factory but never a chicken.

11:25 PM :.

The Saturnyne hollered thusly:

You didn't even have the excuse of being drunk... Hehe

Shameful it was. But on the other hand very noble too. And we, as your friends should totally have joined in and formed a protective ring around you so no-one else could witness the apocalyptic moves...

6:02 AM :.

LiVEwiRe hollered thusly:

Apparently chickens offend him... lol. Or perhaps he thinks the little buggers are groovy and does not want to give them a bad name by comparing them with his dancing. Hmmm.

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30.10.10 | Facebook

If anyone wants to add me on Facebook, my alias is Opal Luna Saturnyne

That's in the meantime... i'm still gonna start updating this damned blog that i love...

S.x

2 comments :.

5:43 AM :.

LiVEwiRe hollered thusly:

Yaaaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyy!!! (I'm not one to talk - I've been horrible. But I can surely say I've missed you!)

9:42 AM :.

Ginger Doll hollered thusly:

are you ok, your FB profile has vanished? Or have you just defriended me!

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22.7.10 | Loose Ends

The next day they came for your things. Two gentlemen from supplies, looking like George and Lennie from Steinbecks' novel. All the disability equipment that they loaned you after your stroke, plus the stinking plastic coated medical mattress to help prevent bed sores that you died upon. Giving up the commode and the bath-lift was easy. As was the little table with wheels and the strangely handled cutting knife that you never once used. Other things, too, unimportant in your life as in your death.

It was the walking stick that broke me. All my pragmatism and inherited practicalities shattered when i held it in my hands. The smooth worn handle that i gripped tightly in my fingers as yours once did, and the strong metal shaft ending cleverly in tripod feet for balance. This was your lifeline for even getting into the kitchen. It served you well.

And now i had to let it go and serve another person with needs just as great. All i could do was place it beside your empty chair and take the picture to keep safely and remind me of you. When i try really hard i can see you sitting there, smiling at mum and me and my dumbass big brother (it's ok, i can call him that. He knows i say it with affection). I cry a lot at small things these days, it seems.

We talked about getting rid of that chair and its accompanying sofa the other day and i was dismayed. But then i suddenly realized-this wasn't really your chair. It was just the one best able to suit your needs when you became half paralyzed. More an open prison, really. And i smiled, then. Your chair sits where it always has done. Beside the window, next to the telly. Mum sits there now. Me too, sometimes, when she goes to bed...

I think about you a lot. I miss you.

PS: England played rubbish. You'd have been glad not to see them.

2 comments :.

3:30 AM :.

LiVEwiRe hollered thusly:

Your photo really spoke volumes. It is peculiar how the remains of a life, any life, can be dismantled so quickly. Not that it takes away any sadness, reduces mourning or takes away the validity of that life, it's just that it can be dismantled so quickly. Then again, those are just the physical things. The important part remains with you; the impact they had on your life. I hope you are doing well. xo

5:59 PM :.

Imola hollered thusly:

And yet you still jump a beat when you see a picture, and you still feel like having a cup of tee out of his cup...and you still crave the ice-cream that he loved...

And it is a silly cup too...bottoms up! this tea grew cold!

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