(no subject)
Tum died.
I feel so tired and beaten, but also.. ecstatic? numb? hysterical? It's actually been one of the better days of this year.. just that singular, ground shaking, shit fact (that i can't even begin to process) that penetrates all the events of the day with its enormity. There have definitely been happy moments, however.
Work are awesome. Soon as i got the phone call, Tracey gave me a huge hug, stuffed all my things into my bag, said "I'll sort it out", and pushed me out the building. So thankful for her.
If ever i've met an angel in disguise, I'd say the cab driver to Sophie's place was it. The whole journey he asked me about my day and where i lived and what i thought about travel and what my dreams were. He told me about his daughter who just started uni this year. You can see he beams everytime he thinks of her - and has clearly been doing so every day for 18 years now. I didn't mention Tim, but wanted to so badly. When we got to the stop i wanted to hug him and thank him, I said goodbye and tipped him.
Soph and i walked to Newtown. We stopped in a tiny park wedged between two terraces. Today it rained and the air was woody.We stood in wet grass and sighed and whispered and were silent together. And we walked past the train tracks (Sophie took some amazing pictures today), and past a studio with a beautiful miniature model of a country town inside which we pressed ourselves up against the glass to see better. She took me to a tiny cafe that roasts its own beans, and we had affogatos together, and we wrote a note which we left inside one of the display coffee percolators for someone to find one day. We kicked around in Gould's books for a while (Theresa McGuinley, Kansas Julie - you would LOVE this bookstore!)
I twisted my ankle really badly going down a step early on in the arvo. Sophie gave me a piggy back on King St. We did lots of laughing today, and from time to time we'd catch each other's eyes and fall silent. It was weird being surrounded by people. We talked about how we had this secret that nobody else was in on - they were all worried about catching the bus, or planning dinner or whatever,and fussed on oblivious of the amazing awareness of the preciousness of life and time that we had today.
Play went amazing -one of my best shows ever. My ankle was strapped firmly, and had to be kept in cold water whenever i wasn't on stage, but when i was, i was cool and sharp. I felt that supreme exhilaration you have when seventy people are putty in your hands, and pride that i was doing such a good job for Tim, and also pangs of "but he isn't here to see it". Haven't told anyone in the cast yet - couldn't do it.
The house smells of flowers. There are photos of Tim on the kitchen bench, and boxes of tissues, and all the mugs are dirty. Tim's door was open, so i wandered in and stood for a while, before realizing that Linda is asleep on his bed, so i crept out and came in here. Good God (he sure is) what must it be like to sleep in your son's bed the night he dies? ?? ?????
How can it be that this boy is gone?
I feel so tired and beaten, but also.. ecstatic? numb? hysterical? It's actually been one of the better days of this year.. just that singular, ground shaking, shit fact (that i can't even begin to process) that penetrates all the events of the day with its enormity. There have definitely been happy moments, however.
Work are awesome. Soon as i got the phone call, Tracey gave me a huge hug, stuffed all my things into my bag, said "I'll sort it out", and pushed me out the building. So thankful for her.
If ever i've met an angel in disguise, I'd say the cab driver to Sophie's place was it. The whole journey he asked me about my day and where i lived and what i thought about travel and what my dreams were. He told me about his daughter who just started uni this year. You can see he beams everytime he thinks of her - and has clearly been doing so every day for 18 years now. I didn't mention Tim, but wanted to so badly. When we got to the stop i wanted to hug him and thank him, I said goodbye and tipped him.
Soph and i walked to Newtown. We stopped in a tiny park wedged between two terraces. Today it rained and the air was woody.We stood in wet grass and sighed and whispered and were silent together. And we walked past the train tracks (Sophie took some amazing pictures today), and past a studio with a beautiful miniature model of a country town inside which we pressed ourselves up against the glass to see better. She took me to a tiny cafe that roasts its own beans, and we had affogatos together, and we wrote a note which we left inside one of the display coffee percolators for someone to find one day. We kicked around in Gould's books for a while (Theresa McGuinley, Kansas Julie - you would LOVE this bookstore!)
I twisted my ankle really badly going down a step early on in the arvo. Sophie gave me a piggy back on King St. We did lots of laughing today, and from time to time we'd catch each other's eyes and fall silent. It was weird being surrounded by people. We talked about how we had this secret that nobody else was in on - they were all worried about catching the bus, or planning dinner or whatever,and fussed on oblivious of the amazing awareness of the preciousness of life and time that we had today.
Play went amazing -one of my best shows ever. My ankle was strapped firmly, and had to be kept in cold water whenever i wasn't on stage, but when i was, i was cool and sharp. I felt that supreme exhilaration you have when seventy people are putty in your hands, and pride that i was doing such a good job for Tim, and also pangs of "but he isn't here to see it". Haven't told anyone in the cast yet - couldn't do it.
The house smells of flowers. There are photos of Tim on the kitchen bench, and boxes of tissues, and all the mugs are dirty. Tim's door was open, so i wandered in and stood for a while, before realizing that Linda is asleep on his bed, so i crept out and came in here. Good God (he sure is) what must it be like to sleep in your son's bed the night he dies? ?? ?????
How can it be that this boy is gone?