Sunny bedroom

And peace, and quiet (apart from the music I choose to play). Time to research and write. Quite delicious, a whole weekend’s worth of it. Liminality, ‘liminoidity’, playfulness – what I have been working with all my life, in various forms, shapes and sizes. Playfulness – is it really just about lightness, or is it the way we learn to handle heaviness with grace?

Being in between, as a place where the ties that bind are loosened, and you are free to assume new forms.

I have the past few days been revisiting the time around Bosse’s death in my memory. A friend is away attending a funeral, guess that jogged my memory. One image that stands out in particular is when Bosse’s old friend, the retired police officer he used to brew his superb moonshine with, solemnly stood in front of my mum and bowed to her, from the waist, in a most gentlemanly and dignified manner. A beautiful, poignant moment. I knew him (his friend, not Bosse) as a quite simple soul. But in that moment he had real stature.

Also when my mother rang, shortly after Bosse had passed away. Her grief was palpable, she had been trying to cover him up, and said “he is so cold, he is so cold”. Trying to keep him warm, as a final gesture of caring and love. That was the most difficult time for me, feeling that loss and not being able to be there.

What somehow keeps my bond with Bosse alive is the promise I made to him the last time we spoke on the phone. He had been drinking, and spoke from his heart with an urgency I never heard before. He told me he loved my mother more than anything else, and how concerned he was for her. I promised him that I would look after her. At the time, that promise was about going to the airport to meet her. But both he and I felt, I am sure, what he was really asking me.

He was a good man, and he went as far as he could with himself in this life. Therefore I could not wish that he was still here – he had exhausted his options. But I am so grateful that he was in my mum’s – and my – life for the time that he was.

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