Keefe and I left Newcastle about 11pm Wednesday night. The drive down was relatively uneventful and we finally drove through the streets of the London at about 3.30am, being away for as long as I have Im always struck by how busy this city is, even at this god awful time in the morning, luckily though we only hit three red traffic lights on the way in so it wasn't too painful. We managed to get our heads down for a couple of hours: the journey over to Essex also happened fairly painlessly although more road signs with sensible directions are definitely called for.
The service itself was quite simple but sympathetically done. I cried lots (I'm unable to control my tear ducts) and Keefe broke down when they played one of his mums fave songs. Everyone was fairly calm throughout the service, the sadness palpable but bearable.
It strikes me as bizarre how we say goodbye to our loved ones. Why do we mourn the death and not celebrate the life? I was in one of the cars with the spouses, my brother in law Steve has a wonderful sense of humor and kept the car laughing - appropriate or not I don't know, I just know that I left the crematorium thinking happy thoughts of Nell, not sad ones.
The rest of the day past with sandwiches and the odd glass or two of beer for Keefe and wine for me. I even met Keefe's first wife, which was totally bizarre, Angie was nothing like the picture he had painted but then he hasn't seen her for 20 years and I guess we all change.
The family went through what seems to be the general "recrimination" scene of "they should of", "we never", "they didn't" but I suppose with emotions high this sort of thing was to be expected. Luckily there was more laughter than hurt and the day passed with a sense of dignity that I'm sure Nell would have appreciated, if wondered at - Her family are certainly not shy in coming forward, I certainly expected more "upheaval".
Keefe, Tom, Rene and I all headed back to the pub in Crystal Palace and with Ben (Keefe's nephew) we settled in front of the bar, toasting Nell and the life she had - It was actually a really pleasant end to a rather sad day.
The next day brought a hangover, I was supposed to go to Hx's for 5.30 to have our girly clothes trying on session and catch up, but fell asleep. Rene woke me up at 6ish to say she had cooked dinner, I know I should have phoned H, but knowing how relaxed she is I just assumed it would be okay to get there late. I guess to assume does make an ass out of u and me - Hx called and in no uncertain terms told me how rude I had been. I was left feeling hurt and a bit pee'd off but on reflection realised that I had been rude so made my mind up to buy Hx something nice and take it round to her on Sat to apologies.
Sat came and I purchased two huge cups with hot choc in and knocked on Hx door in full "grovel mode", she opened the door in full "I'm not impressed mode" but my winning smile, sincere apology and promise of chocolate thawed her! We quickly exchanged grovel present for clothes and I left. Looking back it was a shame we did it this way, I don't get to see her that often and more time should have been spent catching up.
Saturday evening was spent in O'Neils at Crystal Palace with friends, Malcolm, Lionel and Robert - catching up, talking rubbish and generally enjoying the ambiance. Keefe, Malcolm and I left on wobbly legs, the two guys decided to wait for a bus and I in my infinite wisdom (generally only comes with copious amounts of alcohol) decided to walk back to Tom and Rene's pub. Unbeknownst to me Keefe had decided to follow me. But I walk fast and he lost me because on the way back to the pub I decided to tackle a ghost from my past.
Three years ago - four this April - I was attacked in Upper Norwood Park by three guys, not going into details, but it was a horrible experience and one that has seriously marked me. When I lived in London I used to think of this Park as mine, I would often amble through it at night, hugging trees and sitting on the swings with other drunken friends discussing life, love, the universe and how they get those ships in little bottles.
The night I was attacked changed all that and lead to me leaving London and returning home to Newcastle. Every time I have returned to London I have always faced the ghost of "seeing one of them" of feeling scared.
So, I walked through the park again ("STUPID, STUPID, and more STUPID" I hear Hx screaming). I sat under my favorite tree and bawled my eyes out. Then I laid my ghost to rest, said goodbye to my fears and run all the way back to the pub.
Keefe was non to pleased to see me - as far as he was concerned I'd gone "airy fairy" again and we shouted at each other for a while, I actually felt relatively sober and managed to get through to him where I had been and that it was really a good thing, we both cried, spoke worms of love and laughed.
Me - I actually really feel that for the last three years I've hidden behind a mask of alcohol but now I feel like a burden has been lifted, the fear has gone, Im not sure how long this will last for, but right now, I feel stronger than I have for very long time, more myself!
"I may not have gone where I intended to go,
but I think I have ended up where I intended to be."
Douglas Adams
"Fall seven times, stand up eight."
Japanese Proverb
Holding anger is a poison. It eats you from inside.
We think that hating is a weapon that attacks the person who harmed us.
But hatred is acurved blade.
And the harms we do, we do to ourselves.
