Recently working in the garden (already an unusual activity for me) my spade hit something solid (spade = unusual tool for me) and on investigation and deeper digging I found an old Phillips Head. How I thought of Salv that it might have slipped out of the pocket of the much worn green shorts and that he would have returned inside reciting ‘drats….drats….I have lost my good Phillips Head screwdriver’ and I imagine he would have had a cup of tea in consolation for his loss.
Fear not Salv I have it soaking down in vinegar (as per Dr Google) and I shall have it back in your garage in no time.
Today is Wednesday 16 June 2021. The fire has been burning all day. Lit this morning at 6.30am from an ember buried in the ashes from last night even though it had been raining this morning. Penny: “A sign.”
Today: a tip trip. Freida Possum. Flowers keep arriving.
Tonight, ’round the fire bin: Georgia and Ned and Izzy and Mon and MaryAnne and Anna and Nick and Greta and Evelyn and Susan and Bernard and Joseph and Zebedee and Cleo and Justin and Eloise and Tim and Luke and Penny and Florence and Rafael. On the comms: Greg and Dan and Allegra and Tamara and Jarvis and Bruce and Maximilian.
Tim’s mulled wine and Luke’s osso bucco (“hollow bone”) and Eloise’s beef bourgignon and mashed potatoes and Anna’s pumpkin soup and Heather’s sausage rolls.
Last year:
Luke and Justin catch a rat, and spray its tail gold. Why I didn’t draw the rest of that rat I couldn’t tell you.
Then the women come in as the men leave the room, exhausted (Luke stays). MaryAnne sings to Salv the Barbara Streisand tune, “If I could choose again, I would still choose you.”
Here is a recent photo of a setting sun down nearby Walker Street and I am reminded that the sun never forgets to do what she has to do whereas I did forget the significance of 16th May.
Every day in my Gratitude book I record how many days it is since I last saw Salv. And after noting 335 days in the morning I went about my merry May Sunday. It was a seismic shock when Bernard rang me in the evening to remind me that it was 11 months to the day that Salv had died before our very eyes and hearts.
I had paused at each other month: July, August, September, October, November, December, January, February, March & April. But not in May. At first I was very remorseful but then I remembered some words I had read by Judith Lucy in her recent book:
“I’m pretty familiar with how grief works now: you just have to go with it and there’s never a time by which you should be over it. You just feel terrible until you start having days when you don’t. Gradually you get a few of these in a row, then a few more, and then one day you realize you haven’t thought about your loss for a while and you surprise yourself. In my experience, it’s usually at this point just when you think you’ve turned a corner that something pulls you right back into the abyss And the whole process starts again. We don’t (ever) get over these heartaches.”
Remembering Salv Caleo 