Thursday, May 14, 2009


I remember when we met, we were 14. I had just moved to that shitty country town and I hated it, I was in a complete state of shock. At first you were just another part of that town, hassling me, asking me silly questions. Everyone wanted to be my boyfriend at first. I was so frigid that they called me Kelly (Kelvinator). But when the gloss died down, and the novelty of me faded away, when the meanness of that town made its self so very apparent, you were there. I had hardly any friends by the end of that year, but you sat with me in my classes and at lunchtime.

I remember holding your hands in the playground, they were so rough and worn. You used to tell me that you worked on the farm every spare minute you had, and not out of choice. I remember dancing with you at the school socials, I remember the love letters, the phone calls, meeting up after soccer practice. I remember loving you, but being so unconquerably frigid. I have always been an anxious being.

I remember meeting you by chance at a terrible 18th birthday party that our parents had forced us to go to. You had been at boarding school, you were kicked out for having a girl in your room. I remember being shocked by the chemistry we still had, I was just as drawn to you as ever. I had had my first ‘serious’ boyfriend while you were gone, and had forgotten what it was like to be mesmerised by someone.

I remember living in Sydney and feeling surrounded by drones. I remember writing you a letter one day just to say hi, and you rang me as soon as you got it. We met up under the big clock at Central. We went to the markets, we had lunch, we wondered around the city, we went to see American Beauty, we held hands in the dark.

I stayed at your house all weekend. It was awesome, it was safe, it was exciting. My uncle barely spoke to me ever again.

I remember the day we moved in together, we moved everything from Wahroonga to Revesby on the train. Then there was Neutral Bay, Leichhardt, Annandale, Stanmore and Petersham, five years on and you moved to Surry Hills with your friends, and it was over. I remember lying in bed at night aching for you, blubbering like an idiot at the most inappropriate times. I remember deciding that it wasn’t fair to show you my anguish, since I had ended it.

We stayed friends, we stayed in touch, we met up all the time at first. I remember when you came and fixed my hot water system, I remember saying to you, ‘All you need to do is stop drinking’. ‘That’s it?’, you asked, but by that stage, we had both moved on so much.

I remember the day in September when I went to your house to tell you that I’d fallen inlove with your friend, and that it was real, and that we were going to be together. You stopped walking me to the station that day. My heart was torn apart, I went home and got into bed and cried the rest of the night.

I remember the desperate phonecalls from your friends at strange hours every so often. They would ring me and put you on the phone as if to confess your sins to me, as if I could somehow pull you back into line, and make you see reason. It never worked. You’d tell me whatever it was, I’d say I love you, I’m here, always, no matter what, and I meant it, and you knew it.

I remember all the phonecalls, I remember all the emails, the messaging, the letter writing, the occasional visits. I remember when you told me that Jet was calling you Dad, I remember when you asked Sian to marry you, I remember how happy you were. I remember your heart relaxing a little when you met them. I remember all the funny, crazy things we did together, all the laughing, and the fighting, the arguments, the depression, the anxiety, the simple day to day life moments when you revealed your kindness and generosity and the strength of your love. All the music, and the concerts, and the talk, the politics, the vegetarian food, the friends we made, the books we read, the growing up we did together.

And I remember the phone call from Pat telling me it was all over. I remember falling to the ground, my mind trying to connect what I was hearing with what I was feeling. I remember your funeral and the rubbish they said about you, they seemed to have missed the point.

Now I have so many songs running through my head, so many memories, so many photos surrounding me, everything but you, and I have no idea where to go from here.


There are some really lovely posts on the word 'remember' via Meet me at Mike's this week, so I even more highly recommend you check it all out this week.

xxx, B.


Cindy said...

I feel a little weird this being the first comment on your blog, but this is a beautiful heat felt (heart breaking) post, thank you for being able to share it.

Rebecca said...

Thanks Cindy! I felt a little weird putting it out there at first, but I wanted to share something really important going on in my life right now... it feels very strange going about day to day business without mentioning that there's such a gaping whole in my life.

ArtMind said...

Wow, what a beautiful, personal and well written post. Gave me goosebumps.

thetwowindmills said...

Such a beautiful post. Thankyou for being so open. It terrifies me. I am so sorry for your loss.

Karen said...

I can't beleive you wrote that Bec! It is seriously such a heartfelt, honest and poetic piece of writing. You are truely talented in more ways than one! Gave me goosebumps too...

The Toy Society said...

So sorry for your loss Rebecca. That post was really moving.