Vale

I don't want to blog this, but I have to do something other than what I'm up to, which is crying and reminiscing about someone that almost nobody in the UK has ever met or heard of. I had a call from my mother - a not unexpected call, but sad all the same - to tell me that Grandma, her mother, had passed away during the night in Australia. And now I'm both swamped with memories of the strong, quiet woman who my imp of a grandfather referred to as "my Genie" - always in the I Dream of sense, even as she told him off for teaching his grandchildren dirty jokes.

I remember the woman who, following what must have been a long and boring night of music recitals by school children, presented a much smaller me with a box of embroidered handkerchiefs that I was too young and stupid to appreciate, if only for the formal but kind thought behind the gesture. The way she would always refer to our family dog, Boofa, as Woofer, stubbornly refusing to hear the 'B' for years, then continuing out of habit. The sudden burst of her laughter, not heard for a long time.

I said that it was not a surprise to get the phone call. No, this should be seen more as a release from the pain and indignity of her life for the past few years. But it still hard to say goodbye. It is perhaps made more so by the fact that I can't do it properly. I'm here in London. I can't get back to Melbourne. Even if I could get away from work, I don't have the cash to pay for a flight. I'm not even sure I can justify taking a day off work to deal with the grieving process. What would I do with the day? Sit and mope? I learnt that lesson once before. As different as this is from what happened almost three years back with my friend Joel, it's still difficult. I'm in a dilemma. I would love to bring forward my trip home. I fly out in just over a month. But my ticket cannot be changed, and I don't even know when the funeral will be. Would I even make it in time? I'm stuck here, and I don't know what to do about it. How do you grieve for someone when you can barely comprehend the loss?

Jean Mary Hayes
b February 2, 1918
d August 12, 2009