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Clearing the Air

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Sunday 18 September 2011

Clearing the Air

Last evening there was a terrific thunderstorm. Apocalyptic in its intensity and ferocity. Enormous hail stones rattled the car roofs and sheets of rain sluiced down the road outside. It was one of those storms where the sky is so black and the clouds so low that you feel if you step outside you might be gathered up into an inky oblivion. But the storm wrack rolled on east and from beneath its westerly tip, just before slipping over the horizon, the fiery sun lit up the last of the rain.

It was the most perfect double rainbow I have ever seen. Projected onto the retreating darkness it was huge and luminous and almost overhead. Too wide for a full camera shot, which anyway could not have described the majesty of its presence. It held its brilliance for just a few minutes and within its shining arc a flock of white terns danced and then dashed away. I was left wondering if birds can see rainbows.

rainbow remnants s

This morning is calm, clear and peaceful. It’s been a hard week, so much harder than I had thought. I cleared the silent and still house of pills, medical notes and the awkward ugly hardware of infirmity. My sister and I made the calls, arranged things, searched for contacts, ploughed through 50 years of paperwork, much of it annotated with my father’s small accountants handwriting. We have opened ancient shirt boxes tied with string and found wonderful things, old identity cards, a ration book, the poignant death certificate of a baby brother. Medals never worn or cared much about. Army stuff, old cameras. We are doing well. But there are some things I am not quite ready to tackle. The box marked “Wartime letters”, letters between Mum and Dad, they just have to wait awhile.

But Dad was not one to dwell on things so neither should we. He was a practical man and forward looking. He regarded his failing health with frustration rather than self pity, never mentioned the possibility of death and defiantly left no “arrangements”.  I think he felt he would live for ever. In response to the recent suggestion that I whisk him away for another Spanish holiday to beat the winter blues, he said “ Well, why not?”.

Why not indeed Dad! I might just take half those ashes to the Costa del Sol!

Dad at a sprightly 89 sporting what we laughingly called his film director sunglasses. He is in his element, basking in a sunny little bar on top of the magnificent El Chorro Gorge close to where I used to live.  We had sun-kissed olives, manchego cheese dripping with olive oil, slices of tortilla, albondigas in rich tomato sauce and thin slivers of buttery Serrano ham, warm bread, cool beer and a little glass of delicious icy fino. The plates were clean. On the back of the photo we wrote “ Dad, as film director, El Chorro “ he wrote. “A good holiday!”

Thank you all, my lovely friends for your wonderful comments, emails, Skypes, cards, calls and messages. They are so very welcome.. He would be thrilled!


Blogger Esther Montgomery said...

I've been away so am only learning now of this change in your life - will be thinking of you as these first weeks go by.

A menu for a sun-filled meal is a wonderful obituary.

Hope all goes well . . . and that, now you are free to appreciate dandelions, happy memories will keep you going.

Best wishes


18 September 2011 at 11:05  
Blogger . said...

Just a small note to send my condolences for your father's death. I love the image of he at El Chorro - wonderful! Anywho, I am not someone that you know, but I have enjoyed and spoken to others about your blog and work. So thank you for sharing this part of your "work" as well.

It interested me to hear you mention white geese. I am not sure if it was in reference, but there is an old tale that geese are the trumpets of Saint Gabriel announcing the arrival of young children up to heaven. So, it's nice yeah?

Take care, and take your time.


24 September 2011 at 05:02  
Blogger sharp green pencil said...

Thank you both so much -It has been a long week with many decisions to be made! But the sun is shining and, Esther, already those dandelions are back :)
Heidi .. Thank you, you are not the only one to tell me more legends about the white goose.I was so taken with it the day I first saw it, never thinking about its possible meaning. As you say .. nice! :)

24 September 2011 at 06:59  
Blogger Diana Studer said...

Have only just read this. Thinking of you. You seem to have captured the sunshine in this post, surprising me, once I realised what had happened.

6 October 2011 at 23:15  
Blogger sharp green pencil said...

Thank you so much EE . the sun in Spain certainly got into our souls. Its a good job because we are now bracing oursleves for our first UK winter for 7 years!

7 October 2011 at 13:17  

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