Monday, November 15, 2021
Five years without Jack
Jacks death taught us that life can turn in a moment, that all you thought secure can be shattered in a terrible instant, that lesson was bought home again in the worst possible way.
Mikey's best friend, Delsin, died in our sleep-out almost two months ago. Jack died in Melbourne, in his beloved Medley College, so we were spared the terrible immediacy of the Ambulance personnel and the Police (who must attend any unexplained death of a young person) that was forced on Delsin's parents.
Everyone's grief is their own, and our own experience was not that of Delin's parents, Jack was faraway, forging his new life, his presence phone calls and email and all too fleeting visits. Held dear but remaking himself on his own terms away from us.
Delsin was still very large part of his family, an impactful, indisputable presence filling the space around him. His passing was immediate, intrusive, no space to step back and remove your self, if just for a fleeting moment, from that terrible reality.
The sleep-out was a safe space for the boys, where they could play and express themselves. When Jack died his friends came and sat in the sleep-out, silently communing with his memory in their shared space. Delsin also sought solace there, a place where he could have a breather from the world and its storms, reveling in card games and video games with Mikey and his other friends.
Mikey and Delsin's other friends have started playing card games in the sleep-out again, honoring his joy in that space, remaking it.
We still don't know why Delsin died, maybe we never will, just like we still don't know what stilled Jacks heart on the fateful morning 5 years ago. We do know that after years of tests and genetic investigations, that Mikey and Unknown Entity have not inherited any of the common genetic defects associated with Sudden Death Syndrome and that particular sword of Damocles is not dangling over their heads.
We have learned to live without the closure of a diagnosis, but hope that Delsin's family can find closure and comfort in the near future.
Delsin's dad worries that he will forget his son. I worry too, that I will forget Jack even though his picture is on walls at home and work. Am I remembering Jack or just the after image held in place by those mute photos?
Five years on and I no longer think of him every day, but memories flash upon me unbidden, sudden and vivid and emotion holds me in place. No I won't forget our marvelous boy and I'm sure the Delsin's family will not forget him.
Jacks heart was in Melbourne, that marvelous city, genteel and rambunctious at the same time.
Jack is buried under a Moona tree near his beloved grandparents place, with the sound of the waves and bird song for company. We visit him as often as we can, COVID lock-downs not withstanding and listen to the magpies song. The Persimmon tree planted in honour of one of his stories has grown and now regularly bears fruit.
Jack would have been so proud of his brothers. Mikey has completed his sonic arts degree, he is still creating music while trying to find a way to use his creative talents in ways that will earn him a living. Unknown Entity (formerly SmallestOne, but now that he is taller than all of us that no longer fits) has graduated High School, a far cry from the young boy who used to hide under tables at school. He still rides his bike, that landmark achievement that meant so much, he and I go on bike adventures at intervals.
Unknown Entity has followed in Jacks footsteps, taking up Jack's passion, fencing. Unknown Entity has taken to Sabre, rather than foil, but he wears Jacks' fencing glove, a visible connection to his older brother.
The 5th anniversary of Jacks passing was yesterday, but we were hosting some boys from Unknown Entities social skills group, having a party for his 18th birthday. These young men are on the Autism spectrum like Unknown Entity, navigating their way from School to the wider world. So I spent time with Unknown Entity and his friends, thinking of his road ahead and washing so, so many dishes that I didn't have time to finish this essay. I'm sure Jack would understand.
You can find Jacks writing here where he made Satan a warbling magpie, rhapsodised over Paralympic fencing, took weightlifting to absurd heights, explored pie floaters, weirdly rhapsodized the Olympics, did cult interviews and made a persimmon tree a dark harbinger of fate.There is also the Jack Francis Musgrave Award for Creative Absurdity.
Wednesday, November 14, 2018
Two years without Jack
Two years on from that terrible day so much has changed and so little. SmallestOne's birthday is now bracketed by two sad event's, the loss of his gran and his brother. He may not fully understand why we didn't want to buy him Call of Duty, Black Ops on the 100th anniversary of the end of the War to End all Wars, with the memory of his decorated gran's poppy service still fresh. Now he is swinging with Spider Man instead.
Two years on we follow his friends progress through their lives. There has been ups and down, but they are progressing well, becoming confident young men in a larger world.
Peta and I cry less at random bitter sweet reminders of his life, but I still can't listen to Paul Kelly's "Making Gravy" without tears. I have no idea why this song reminds me of Jack so much or fill me with such loss.
Two years on and SmallestOne progressively faces the challenges of being on the Spectrum, he can ride a bike now, a feat he could not achieve before. This has changed him measurably and he faces the world with more confidence.
Tonight, on the second anniversary of Jack's death, MiddleOne plays in the final concert of his first year at Uni as a Sonic Arts student. The next year without Jack will start with Avant Gard sounds and new hope for the future.
Tuesday, November 14, 2017
A year without Jack
Monday, September 04, 2017
A post Father's Day reflection
Fathers day was not so bad, Jack had been away in Melbourne at Uni for two years, his fathers day presence was a distant telephone voice chatting about his faraway life in his city of dreams until we ran out of things to say and stuttered into awkward silence.
We still had longer and better conversations than I had with my dad. At Jack's age I was even more absent, although I still lived at home I was out bushwalking virtually every weekend, when Fathers day came around there was not even my voice on the telephone, but silence and absence as I toiled up some bush covered ridge far away from my dad.
This fathers day was made more bearable by an unexpected discovery. Scrabbling to find my astronomy notebooks to record the flyby of asteroid Florence, I found the text of Jack's Year 7 graduation speech.
It is funny how memory works. As soon as I picked it up there was an intense flash of Jack in his dress-up tails and psychedelic bow tie. A warm memory of him telling funny stories at the microphone in the sailing club where the event was held. The text was full of his self depreciating humour; Stapling his thumb, being bad at poetry and helping out with Traffic Monitor duties (two years later MiddleOne, with own brand of sarcastic humour, would speak of the same Traffic Monitor duty, make meaningful pause and then say "it was dull").
Jack's stated ambition when he went to high-school was to become a lawyer, but soon he would be derailed and head off into the path of a writer, telling tales that deeply touched everyone.
That was the memory I took with me into Fathers day, a happy memory of Jack, grinning with joy, larking with his mates, caught in that moment between a boy setting out full of enthusiasm on a path he imagines is his destiny, and a young man who has crafted a new path.
My breath still caught and the sadness was there, but buffered by that unexpected memory of joy.
Labels: homelife
Thursday, November 14, 2013
Waiting for Godot
Thursday, May 16, 2013
At EldestOne's Play
Labels: homelife, miscellaneous
Friday, April 19, 2013
Chocolate Marylin Munro
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