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All posts for the month November, 2014

Still Tuesday 07th May 2013

Published 25/11/2014 by Saint

Craig. Glynnis. Me. So young once, now all three nursing a dying son. Grey in our hair. Bewilderment, amongst calm and pain, in our older eyes and the beautifully tender touch of a father’s hand on his dying son’s head. Sweetly whispered, comforting murmurs. The ability of us all to face this with some form of courage; some form of faith, even amongst the terrible sadness. These are pictures I will have in my heart forever. My, how we have grown. Up. Grown and grown up.

If Antony is the bridge, the conduit, that’s drawn the rivers of our lives together, however briefly and for whatever reason, then he’s done a magnificent job. Twenty five or so years ago, we’d never have thought we’d be standing here, together, today.

Song that came to me, around two or three a.m as I was watching Antony and dreading his death but wishing his death all the same: “I am just a new boy, stranger in this town. Where are all the good times? Who’s gonna show this stranger around?” And I reckoned that’s the song Ant’ll be singing in his new world. (Young Lust, Pink Floyd).

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Ant and his Puffin

Published 05/11/2014 by Saint

Nuther extract from my journal: ┬áLauren left to spend some time in Jhb with her folks. From the start, the weekend went pear-shaped in regards to Ant. Although he couldn’t see much he knew, and I mean KNEW something was wrong, that she was missing. At that stage he could still walk. The problem came in the early afternoon; he refused food and demanded to speak to Loli.

In fact, when I look back; she was all he wanted and was the very greatest comfort he knew. Moms, Mums and Grans were important, but he called for his Puffin, all the time. In many ways therefore, the greatest load, and experience of Ant’s death fell upon Lauren. And in many ways we were not all that understanding which is a deep regret. More on this later.