There have been some really horrible times for me in the last weeks, but its funny how there are always things to smile about no matter how bad things get.
On the night Mom died, I dreamed that a strong wind was blowing, and when I jumped, I was carried for miles on it. It was fun. ‘Look mom, I’m flying!’. The next morning, I went to Windt Broers (Wind brothers) – the undertakers and made the necessary arrangements with them.
My aunt seems to think that my dream was deeply spiritual, but I think it was just a subconscious association with the name ‘Windt’. Whatever it was, it was a darned good dream, and I’ve no objection to being thought spiritual, especially since I'm not and would like to be.
Then there was the matter of the will. How I hunted for it. How my brother jittered about the fact that I was still hunting. I found it in the end - it was in the in the fridge. I love you Mommy.
My brother and I worked on each others’ nerves again, and after an incident in which he stormed out of the house in a huff because I insisted that I’d find the missing cat, and he thought I oughtn’t try, I made an excuse (I’d caught the cat) and drove the 400km home through pouring rain and in the middle of the night.
I’ve done the trip eight times in the last weeks with never a problem, but of course two ‘o clock in the morning in the middle of nowhere in the pitch dark and in a fierce storm is the worst possible time to have a flat tyre – so of course that’s what happened. Its funny, now – the cat and I, and him howling like anything while I wanted to howl like anything and the wind howling louder than either of us ever could while the rain came bucketing down out of utter blackness.
The only event of unrelieved sadness was having to put the oldest dog down. She collapsed next day and there was nothing for it. I suppose it goes with the territory.
Then there was the funeral: I didn’t want to go, but of course, one must. I dreaded it until a shaggy mostly-collie-dog walked into the church and investigated everything, running up and down the aisle and sniffing the organist and what have you. My mom would have loved that, and everyone knew she’d have loved it, so no-one chased the dog away. It was better than flowers, really it was.
Today’s pic: another part of my mom’s priceless legacy - Hamish 'ball-biter' Zoutendyk of I-forget-which kennel.