The boy in the green tights – a eulogy for Josh

By on Jan 28, 2018 in Blog Posts, Cancer, Summer | 5 comments

We drove home from Durban on Thursday and I told Shannon that I didn’t like to think of Josh Resting in Peace. His reply to me was – of course he isn’t resting in peace. He is at the front. Causing trouble.

A bigger family

By on Jan 23, 2018 in Blog Posts, Cancer | 5 comments

I am sitting on “Joshua’s chair” in the corner of the lounger. Behind me the stacking doors are open trying to capture the smallest of breezes to break the summer heat. Avanthi, is talking about a memorial book for Josh and surreptitiously feeding cheese curls to Snowy who, after a rocky hair-on-his-back-standing-up introduction, has decided that he likes Avanthi after all. Prashanth and Minaav, Joshua’s best friends, are sitting to my left. I listen, with half and ear to their scathing commentary on their family and friends. In this unguarded moment they are irreverent and funny. Just the way Josh liked his friends to be. Chris-the-elder (young, hot and alleged to only cry for animals) has just agreed to not being weirded out when I stare into his eyes when I deliver my eulogy for Josh on Thursday. I will only get through it if I can avoid looking at anyone un-stoic. His wife, Tayla...

Details of Joshua’s Memorial Service

By on Jan 21, 2018 in Blog Posts, Cancer | 1 comment

Here are the details for Joshua’s memorial.

Joshua’s favourite story

By on Jan 19, 2018 in Blog Posts, Cancer | 9 comments

Yesterday I touched a dead body. I thought, “I can’t wait to tell Josh about this, he’ll be really curious”. Then I remembered it was his body.

The elephant on my chest

By on Jan 6, 2018 in Blog Posts, Cancer, Summer | 10 comments

“There’s a elephant sitting on my chest.” My words feel rushed and tangled. My tongue trips over the simplest of phrases. I’m having difficulty keeping the volume of my voice even.

This is not art and it’s not average either

By on Jan 2, 2018 in Blog Posts, Cancer | 5 comments

White hot, blistering rage charges through my blood vessels. It crystallises into glass-edged, diamond-hard glistening shards that leave my legs hot and anxious and restless. Air expands in my chest. I am puffed out and breathless at once. I lurch from my bed and twitch open the curtain.