Tuesday, 1 November 2011

UnZentimental

I'm not sentimental, you know.  I may be emotional, on occasion, but not sentimental.  But this made me cry.  And if you think that some of it is too emotional, then she's allowed, under the circumstances.

I held out until “I’m telling you now because I’m afraid you won’t make it on time, honey.”


Anyway.  This is a forward-thinking blog, which you rarely leave crying.


This afternoon, I visited Weeza and Gus.  Gus was on splendid form.  Zerlina was the smilingest baby I've ever known, but Gus is at least as happy.  He is immensely long, he likes lying on your lap, feet at your stomach, head clasped in your outstretched hands, smiling and 'talking' to you - but he's so long that I can't rest my wrists on my knees and it's quite tiring.  When I held his eye contact, he smiled widely, and then when, talking to Weeza, I looked away, he made sounds in a conversational tone, so that I would look back, and then he smiled again.  Later, he slept, fed, slept, cried briefly with wind until I put him to my shoulder where he burped, relaxed and slept again.  


I spent a lot of the time telling Weeza of the events that I referred to a couple of days ago.  A lot of "nooo,"  "ew," "what?" and so on, and it was ... actually ... very funny.

11 comments:

Jane and Lance Hattatt said...

Hello Z:
What an inspirational eulogy in so many ways. How carefully crafted is this picture of a brother, a man and, also, possibly, a genius of our time. How well it conveys a life lived to the full with beauty seen in the simplest things and joy taken in daily events. Surely, a lesson for us all and clearly something to which you fully subscribe with your love of family and friends..

Tim said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Tim said...

I'll be meeting my new great-niece, born last Thursday, in a couple of weeks' time; and another one (niece or nephew) hopefully sometime next May. It's always good to see a new one. I must admit I like them better when they start to communicate, about 12 months, but never having had any of my own, it's vicarious for me, really.

Z said...

The saddest thing at the end of a life, however successful in whatever ways, would be if no one mourned one's leaving it.

Don't tell anyone, Tim, but there is a period, around 3-4 months, when a baby wants a lot of attention but can't actually do anything much, when I found even my own children a bit boring. But being smiled at is never boring in the least.

: D

See?

Scarlet Blue said...

Oh dear it's easy to make me well up... but your last line made me do a smile and a guffaw.
Sx

haricot said...

Hello, Z.
It's amazing you've described about (our) lives concretely and symbolically.And it let me consern about my daily and usual events more carefully.

von LX said...

He died surrounded by loved ones. I can't think of a better way to go than that.

Roses said...

The eulogy was beautiful.

It's funny, with the release of his biography, people are saying he was difficult. As if it's a character fault. He was difficult because he had high expectations and he was driven to do what he loved.

I admire that so.

And your pleasure in Gus...

Makes me smile :-D

Z said...

We had a brilliant gossip! Great fun.

Thank you very much, Haricot. Everyone, if you haven't visited Haricot's Japanese blog yet, please do so, it is lovely.

There is quite a sour article in today's Times by John O'Connell, saying that his death couldn't possibly have been tranquil - but my mother also died of pancreatic cancer and, looking back on it, it was the most peaceful and dignified death you could wish for. In her own bed, in no pain (albeit on a low dose of morphine) and only two days after she had been driving and walking her dog. Though not simultaneously.

Esha - People for the Blind said...

Sharing it Z, on my facebook!

Z said...

You're on Facebook? - I must look you up!