Friday, January 19, 2007

Tongue in Cheek Taboo

Steve rang last night. Hell that man makes me laugh, shame neither of us are interested in each other that way. I do love my relationship with him, we can talk about anything and everything and there is no awkwardness between us. Good company, lots of laughs and a comfortable catch up on what we've been doing. Last time I spoke with him was on Christmas Day when I was trying to convince him to come to the orchard and join my family for dinner. He'd been working nightshift on the tankers and was going to be alone on Christmas Day. I hated the thought of that. He didn't come, he chose to sleep instead...bastard! lol.

As we were talking last night, it suddenly occured to me...What if something happens to him? You know, hospitalisation or worse? Who was going to tell me? I don't know any of his family, besides his Godmother, and regardless of how boxy and strong she is, her health is deteriorating. (I spoke with her the other day, she sounds in good spirits but terribly frail these days - to be expected, she's lasted longer than anyone expect her to).

I posed the question to him. "Who is going to tell me if something happens to you? How will I know?" After some discussion he said that he should probably write up some kinda list of his friends and their contact numbers, so should anything nasty happen, his sister could ring and inform us. I know, this all sounds rather morbid doesn't it? But the bottomline is, he lives on his own, has done so for many years and he has no children. Of course he has friends who live nearby, as most of us do...but if something happens, then I want to know about it. He's my mate, he's carried me through some rough times and deserves to have me turn up at the hospital with some flowers or such.

I, on the other hand, have children. And thinking about it all now, I should at least inform them of who I want to be told should something horrible happen. They'll know for the most part, but there are of course others overseas that I'd like informed. If I'm going to go, I want to make sure it's with as much grief and sadness to the world population as possible. OR they can have a toast to me, think about how fabulous I was and/or what a bitch I can be at times, and lay me to rest in a respectful (if somewhat delusional) manner.

By the end of our conversation we had agreed that when one of us passed on, the other would be the one to throw themselves on the coffin at the funeral and weep uncontrollably. We felt that this way, all bystanders would nod their heads knowingly and say something to the tune of "Yes, he/she was certainly loved deeply and passionately. He/She will be missed beyond all doubt." He said "This is so brilliant! It'll be our pact."...."Yeah, and it's better than the one about "If we get to 50 and we're still single, I'll marry you" bullshit, so I'm in. I hereby swear to be your coffin sobber."

This also reminded me of a short conversation I had a couple of months ago. I was sitting in my car outside the college on a particularly nasty day and the car was getting rocked about with the gale force winds Wellington was experiencing. I rang a friend and said "Soooo...I was thinking....if anything happens to my car is whipped up by the wind and I'm blown away never to be seen or heard of...could you please go into the comments section on my blog and let them all know?"

As morose as this subject is, I'm feeling pretty good today. I've got it all covered...the blog, international and domestic informants, coffins, the lot. You need someone to take care of matters after the fact?...

...I'm your girl!

(To be honest, I avoid thinking about this subject as much as possible and now hope I haven't done something incredibly stupid, like jinx either of us lol.)
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