Drink to the present before it shall fail – 24th February 2020

It was a weekend of dying. In the morning, Kimi, my great friend in Kuala Lumpur passed away at the too young age of 36. In the afternoon our neighbour’s grandfather passed away at the ripe old age of 90.

My one aim in life was to live longer than my father, something which I managed to surpass in the last year or so. My father died when I was just 18 months old; lung cancer, after a lifetime of being advertised to the health benefits of smoking. It’s difficult to gauge exactly what effect that event had on my life but it is surely significant. Death was a part of my life from the beginning.

One of my earliest memories is aged 4, sitting up in my bed, crying my eyes out, knowing that one day I would die. I couldn’t believe it. What was this thing called life all about if you just ended up dying?

Whilst I was sitting around crying for my friend far away, feeling useless, the neighbours were busy making preparations.

Could I get to KL to be with everyone? What kind of funeral ceremonies do my Muslim friends have? Are they celebrations of someone’s life or sombre occasions like in most of the west?

I’ve become somewhat familiar with Thai funerals unfortunately. Many of Amy’s family are at that age when funerals come along more often. I’m also getting to the age when more and more friends will leave too. And it will be my turn sooner than I’d like too.

In the smaller villages of Thailand it is still traditional to keep the body in the home for around 5 days before cremation. I’m not sure about burial here. All the funerals I have attended have been cremations and the only places I have seen graves are for people with Chinese backgrounds. I think burial should only really be used if a tree is planted along with the body which I know has started to become more popular in some places and seems to make a lot of environmental sense.

Gatherings, food, prayers and respects are shown by visitors to the home, from relatives and the local residents. Family spread out all over the country will drive back to attend. As this grandfather was 90 years old and his family have lived in the village his whole life it was due to be a big turnout. So big that local farmers where hired to clear the jungle land opposite our house to make an impromptu car park. There were some big rats living in there that were quickly grabbed by the locals and I don’t want to guess what for.

Huge gazebos were erected, a PA system bigger than Motorhead (every house seems to own huge PAs – even worse when combined with their Karaoke machines!) Each night for 5 nights, crowds would gather, monks would chant, food would be served until on the final day a huge silver decorated cart would take the body off to the crematorium, followed by everyone as it spiralled through the village.

I sat through an hour or so each night of chanting and it was quite meditative and mesmerising, especially as I was often lost in thought for my friend Kimi. I then struggled through another night of a chief monk talking. I didn’t struggle with his words, though I didn’t understand anything, it was the crappy plastic chairs playing havoc with my back and posture. The monk was hilarious, the crowd often erupting into laughter and I could feel the ease within everyone. He even joked about me and was sad that I couldn’t understand what he was saying. Of course the whole crowd turned to look at me. I think I’m just know locally as ‘that farang’ who lives here. Amy translated a lot for me so I got some of the fun. At the end the monk opened up his homemade accoutrements to make a little extra cash. People gotta eat I guess.

In contrast, I finally heard what happened to Kimi and discovered that Muslim tradition requires the body to be buried as quickly as possible. I don’t know what kind of ceremonies happen around that and I’m guessing not everyone in his family would have been able to attend this.

Kimi had been finalising some concerts for some European bands and the Kuala Lumpur concert will happen this coming weekend. I will fly down to meet Kimi’s wife and all our mutual friends. I will treat the concert somewhat as a memorial to my great friend.

These coincident deaths have obviously brought sharply into focus thoughts around death but as I wrote last time, these thoughts are still confusing. I’m still processing it all.

I’m very grateful to have made friends with Kimi 12 years ago and to have felt such a connection that we remained in contact over this time, worked together often and I visited him many times and he always showed me his big heart; giving me excruciating massages, taking me jungle river swimming and one time directing me into the ocean filled with jellyfish – a story that is repeated for everyone on every visit. He didn’t piss on my jellyfish sting but I know he would’ve if I had asked him.

23 years, 26 years, 52 years, 90 years. It’s not enough for anyone. Soon, all our names will be forgotten, let’s remember whilst we can.

Come hither, my lads, with your tankards of ale,
And drink to the present before it shall fail;
Pile each on your platters a mountain of beef,
For ’tis eating and drinking that bring us relief:
So fill up your glass, For life will soon pass;
When you’re dead ye’ll ne’er drink to your king or your lass!
Anacreon had a red nose, so they say
But what’s a red nose if ye’re happy and gay?
Gad split me! I’d rather be red whilst I’m here,
Than white as a lily and dead half a year!
So Betty my miss, Come give me a kiss;
In hell there’s no inkeeper’s daughter like this!
Young Harry, propp’d up just as straight as he’s able,
Will soon lose his wig and slip under the table,
But fill up your goblets and pass ’em around
Better under the table than under the ground!
So revel and chaff As ye thirstily quaff:
Under six feet of dirt ’tis less easy to laugh!
The fiend strike me blue! I’m scarce able to walk,
And damn me if I can’t stand upright or talk!
Here, landlord, bid Betty to summon a chair;
I’ll try home for a while, for my wife is not there!
So lend me a hand I’m not able to stand
But I’m gay whilst I linger on top of the land!

Drinking Song from the “Tomb” by Rudimentary Peni
Salut!

Gratitude Journal

I am so happy and grateful for the people I know, my acquaintances. Their part in my life is small but still valuable.

To-do list

  • More contemplating death videos (and contemplate) ½
  • Write blog post ✅
  • What do you want to WOOP?
  • Clear emails ½
  • Finish TCRAH 28 and WDS spreadsheet ½

I lost my cool again this morning when Joe sent me a message that the school had complained about me but he didn’t say exactly what. I was a bit shocked and could only guess it was Jimmy who sent the complaint. I tried to stay calm but the anger and upset overwhelmed me very quickly.

I was smart enough to send messages to Amy and George in the hope of a swift reply with some encouragement. Unfortunately, they didn’t get to me in time before talking with Kru Tam and I had to cut that short cos I could feel myself about to cry. I felt disappointed that I did that.

I’ve kept telling myself to stop and wait before talking but I can’t tell myself when I’m in the middle of these fits.

George calmed me down a little with some humour and Amy really calmed me later too. Luckily before I did anything stupid.

Later I also found out what the complaints were actually about but they were so silly that I had to ask what it was all really about. Joe (at TLC) replied that someone there obviously doesn’t like me and it’s stirring things up.

There are too many stupid people in the world. I know I’m probably one too. It can really get you down. But everyone actually made me feel pretty happy by the middle of the morning so that I actually felt pretty proud of myself that I had actually handled things pretty well. Just that I want to not even reach the point of anger and upset at all.

The rest of the week is very easy teaching wise so I’ll relax a little and see what tasks I can accomplish in my spare time.

Then the cowboy turned the gun on himself as he sang – 4th October 2019

Cats don’t judge. A cat is just a cat.

My last day of school. How do I feel? A little sad and disappointed to leave my students behind but hopeful and positive for the next school. I can visualise myself in class, prepared. Happy.

Gratitude Journal

I am so happy and grateful to the students who made me goodbye cards. I could feel how much I had affected them and what a good influence I had been. They really touched my heart.

I walk my love in mornings gleam – 4th February 2018

How to write this?  How to put my feelings into words, express my thoughts clearly.  Maybe I can’t.  So let’s just stick to the facts.

I was contemplating a visit to the UK before settling in to my new life in Thailand.  Knowing my mother was probably in her last year and the timing was kind of right, it had suddenly become a possibility. I know I wrote just recently that I wouldn’t go back but something, I’m not sure what, made me reconsider.  A couple of hours into my first night shift, I called my cousin, Sharon, to discuss.

Sharon was fine with the idea but did warn me that my mum was very ill now and it may not be the way I wanted to remember her.  The doctors at the hospital, knowing a little about my mum’s wishes, had given her a good dose of antibiotics that hadn’t helped her much, so the decision was to switch to morphine for pain reduction and for her body to fight for itself.  This seemed a good solution.  If she had the strength she would recover, if she didn’t, she would be comfortable.

About an hour later, Sharon messaged me saying she had been called urgently to the hospital and perhaps another hour later she sent through a message, carefully worded, “Your mum has just silently faded away.  No more struggle, just peace and tranquillity.”

Sharon had passed on my love whilst mum was still breathing and held her hand until she was gone.

Of course, this outcome was not unexpected, I guess we had all been gearing ourselves up for this moment and I was strangely calm.  I sat at work, contemplating, thinking, sad but not emotional.  I went over memories of my mother and they all provided me with comfort.  I’m grateful her end wasn’t an extended suffering, around the other dramas of the palliative care ward.  Grateful she had been happy in her last few months at the care home.  In fact, my sadness is countered by everything she did for me, knowing that she was proud of what her son had achieved in his life.  I will continue to make her proud.  I just wish I could share these things with her.

I called Amy.  She had just got back from an event and had had a couple or three beers and was in a tipsy chatty mood, so I let her talk and I sat and listened and loved her words, pouring out of her and into me.  I soaked up her love and thought to myself, my mum has gone but my life is still complete.  I have everything.  I am happy.

When Amy talked about my mum, I gently told her that she was gone and she couldn’t believe me.  She burst into tears and apologised for talking all about her night and herself.  I calmed her down, telling her it was just what I needed.  As she continued to cry though I could feel myself starting to crack.  I started pacing the office I was in and managed to stay positive.  Amy insisted we go back to the UK for the funeral and I agreed, though not particularly for the funeral part but it presents us with the right opportunity to catch up with what is left of the family – something I now feel compelled to do.

I finished off my night shift and when I got home set about making new plans.  As I was due to quit work in a few weeks anyway, it seemed to make sense not to bother coming back to Australia after going to the UK, instead ending up in Thailand.  My son, Hayden, was also due to visit me in Adelaide the week before I was going to leave.  So with a little bit of juggling and some flight changes, I’ll leave Adelaide to go to Brisbane to visit Hayden for a few days, then to Sydney, on to Thailand next, to pick up Amy to fly together to the UK.

All of this planning kept me busy and I ended up awake for around 30 hours before finally sleeping peacefully until the following morning, where I failed to get up with my alarm.  No hurry now.  No more work, no more night shifts.

Still calm inside, still quiet.  Doubled meds, finishing off the codeines.  I can’t wait to hold my little Amy in my arms again.

Goodbye mum.  Thank you for everything you did for me.

Love you, always.