Strange Notations From a Laborious Life

It stands as starkly as it might if it was planted in the Simpson desert. The cross. The finality of it is crushing. The plaque reads:

Linda Gaye

Meacham

20/02/1965-11/02/2026

She’s not coming back. A life that deserved a better denouement than this is over. Linda’s next journey has begun.

Seeing Linda’s name in print had always given a bit of a manic rush that bled from her personality. To see her name written on Facebook, on a document, on a letter reminded me of that vital spark, that whirling dervish of a woman.

Now that same name is on a plaque, on a cross, over her grave-and the world is a sadder place.

She was given a grand send off, fitting eulogies, singing priests and even a local hobo, sinking tinnies in the church provided a comforting farewell. She was laid to rest surrounded by a sea of broken hearts in Queanbeyan cemetery. A community of friends and family devastated by the loss of one so special.

It’s been hard week. Harder than I ever thought it would be. Sadness and grief piling up, layer upon layer, striking again just as I thought it was easing. So much more to live. So much more to give.

I feel multiple levels of grief but the thing I fear the most is the fade. I will never forget her of course, but I intend to live a long time, and Linda made me promise to live well and be happy, but the fade from multicolour to sepia in my memory is what I fear the most. She will always loom large but the little things, the little moments, the little jokes we shared and the moments that only she and I ever knew about will become more difficult to recall as the years go by. She will slowly fade away until my own last breath is drawn and we meet again.

But I’m ok. Many have offered support. Many are worried but I would be letting Linda down if I folded like a house of cards. I draw on her strength, her pragmatism and the memory of her love for me and the promises I made to her to keep going. I will survive.

And so, a new chapter begins, one I thought I would never have to write. I thank everyone for their kind thoughts, support, love and sharing their own grief and reminisces of Linda with me. I hope she is looking down and watching out for me. I will do my best to endure.

Until next time.