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I almost, and I mean almost got to the end of the song I wrote for John’s memorial service (which will be played at the housefilk afterwards, not the memorial, because the memorial is not about me) but I didn’t make it and cried buckets.  So did we all, it was pretty drippy.

I have located John’s black silk shirt with neon frogs – there must be a hundred pics of him wearing it at conventions – and Juliana has very sweetly offered to part with it.  The dragon I embroidered for him has vanished.  I am saddened, but not devastated.  I’ll just have to do another one, and better.  I am thinking of getting a memorial tattoo for John, but the more I work on the design the more ludicrous it gets.   A gryphon – his totem animal, which is perfect, because it’s imaginary – with a guitar slung over its back and a black rose in its mouth?  eh.  erm.

Home made Chinese food at the House of Tom and Peggy, and Joe ripped cd’s of John’s only extant music – until we find more – and it’s raining and I hate my hormones and I should quit typing and go to sleep.  The little girl is resting next to me right now with a quizzical expression.  So tired.  So wired.  So much to do and not much month to do it in.

What’s wrong with me?  I guess my taste buds all got shot off in the war.  Anyway, I liked it.  Plot holes, goofy dialogue, and all.

But I’m working on a song for John.  I’ve got the chorus and that’s always a very good place to start.

I am so thankful to my mother and father right now for being supportive to Paul and Lois and Ruth while they worked on the admittedly  trying task of tidying up John’s stuff.

I’m very glad I’ve got a new home to move to, as well.  I’m going to enjoy being closer to folks.

It’s very good to have routines.

I am hoping to go see the new Star Trek movie with the kids and Jeff tomorrow afternoon – a kind of two birds with one stone Mother’s Day extravaganza.

To find this amusing, you must have liked and be able to recognize the characters from the Lord of the Rings movies. It totally sends up the utter inane slashiness of putting that many pretty men in one room.  Elijah Wood?  Viggo Mortenson?  Orlando frikkin Bloom?

Ruth and Lois and Paul were going to drop John’s stuff in my locker, but I just checked  the time and the gates lock at 9 pm.  So no go.  I won’t get to see them before they go back.

I am sure work is going to be dreadful today, but those are the breaks when you run away.  Mike looked after me for a day and a half; he fed me, entertained me, let me noodle around on his Larrivee parlour guitar, and look at the moon through noctilucent clouds.  Words cannot describe his kindness to me.  He also drove me around to check out the new/old house.  So strange, so very strange, to be walking up to a house and seeing the window John helped Paul put in his room so he had some natural light in his bedroom.

I’ll get the back bedroom upstairs, Jeff will get the front; there are two bathrooms, a carport, a huge deck, a place to put the barbecue and hang the hammock, and a little workshop.  It’s a LOT more house for the same amount of money, we’re getting the best landlords in history, and we’ll have room for all of our stuff, for a change.  Kim’s going to call us when the house is ready and we’ll start moving.  Wow! We’ll be able to get all the stuff out of storage!  That will be bizarre.  And Jeff can have his pinballs, that will be most excellent.  We will be walking distance from Mike, Tom and Peggy and Planet Bachelor (and who knows how long Keith and Paul are going to keep living there, given that the house appears to be for sale, off and on, so I don’t know how long that will last) and those are all good things.

I am figuring the back bedroom in the basement for the music room.  The only thing the current digs have that the other place doesn’t is a dishwasher, but I think we will fix that.  Also, I’ve fallen back into the dreaded east Burnaby hole in the Transit, so I’ll be LONGER getting to work in the morning even though I am physically closer.  Sheesh.  I just ran the numbers and if I want to get to work on time I must catch the 7:13 every morning without fail.  I also just remembered that I’ll be on a bus route which completely stops running in bad weather.  Work from home!  Work from home!

It’s a one sentence memorial to John:

To all the cousins and kids of the Caspell chain: we shall never forget the jungle gym, Uncle John!

I am going to try to get a deposit check to Kim today.  I’ve been visiting friends and am only just poking my head up above ground.

I really don’t feel like paying any more rent.  The landlord just moved everything off the back deck and started ripping down the back porch – two weeks of banging and inconvenience, and the cats will be fucking crazy by the time it’s all over.  I’ve come to rue not going in to work today.  Paul and his sisters don’t need any of my help so I’m just sitting around crying.  Yes, Lois and Ruth are in town, I have no idea when I’ll see them, and I shouldn’t bother them right now as they have mountains of crap to deal with.

Anyway, he said he’d cover the gas bill.  Mmmm.  I think they’ll be covering more than that before this is all over.  Now I’m off to inspect the first house I lived in when I moved to Vancouver, as it is for rent soon.  A whole house, for what we’re paying now.

So long.

Busking in Vancouver.

We watched the Blackhawks-Canucks game on the big screen at work last night.  It was fun, and the Canucks won 3 to 1.

I am taking the day off work. I can’t really concentrate, so I may as well stay home.

I know I am moving and walking and talking, but there is a deep feeling in me that I’ve forgotten something.  And then I’ll remember that John is dead.  I make breakfast, and then run back to my computer to post another link I just remembered to add to his memorial site.

Juliana, his housemate for the last two years, sent me a very sweet message.  I send you a hug, dear one.  There will be a memorial service in Victoria as well; the folk musicians he played with there very much wish to celebrate his life, and I hope it’s a day I can go.  There will likely be a memorial in Ontario too…. a lot of people knew him and loved him.

The only way I can properly memorialize him is by singing and playing more.  And god almighty, I never felt less like doing it.  Every time I look at my musical instruments, I flinch.  No comfort there yet.

bunny plus pig

Homily went well.  I will post eventually. (it’s in homilies now) Tom and Peggy, bless them, invited me and Brooke and Paul and Keith over for lunch yesterday and we tried to lever ourselves out of our grief, which at times swamps us, with some planning.  Paul and Keith came back here long enough for dinner and to distract ourselves with some tv and finally I collapsed into sleep.  Now it is two in the morning and I know that if I don’t put down this computer right away I’m going to end up getting no more fracking sleep.

Miss Margot had one tiny matted bit in her fur and gummy eyes – which Keith took care of – but was otherwise unaffected by my absence.

We all have massive lists of things to do.

Life goes on.  I have put the finishing touches on the homily and I will now be getting up and getting started on my day.

On the way home I said to Paul that I was not happy about spending the night away from him and Keith, so I’m at Planet Bachelor right now.  Keith is struggling.  There is so much that can’t be put into words, and he’s trying to make sense of it, something senseless and stupid.  It’s so unfair.

Jim P is counselling us not to rush the memorial service.  The dead stay dead, and the living need time to gather their resources to do a proper job of the memorial.

mOm and pOp have a full house so Keith, Paul and I are in a bed and breakfast about five minutes’ drive from their house.  Sometime in the next half an hour I’m going to get up and abandon the joys of free wireless internet and get dressed and go downstairs to breakfast, which starts around 7:30.  Then we’ll go visit Granny, and then the parents, and then Dr Filk.

Lady Miss Banjola, who is unabashedly anxious to speak to her long time musical partner and see for herself how he’s doing, joined us for the trip across the Strait (and dinner) last night.  Dr. Filk’s accident aside she appears to be doing famously, and I look forward to her album release later this summer (details about the album and its acquisition will be posted at that time).

The B&B is a suburban house.  I don’t know where this bed came from, but it’s the best bed for sleeping, both in terms of the pillows and the mattress, that I can recollect in many moons.  My bed at home feels like a rock pile by comparison.

I think I’m getting an abscessed tooth.  Grr.

I miss la Margot and Eddie and Gizmo.

I will report on Dr. Filk after I’ve seen him, but Pondside denizens report that the orthopod states that the foot operation went absolutely as well as could be hoped for the range of the injuries and the condition of the patient.  Don’t know if it’s true, but that sure sounds hopeful.  The drunk who t-boned him on his Burgmann has assumed 100% of the responsibility.

Looking forward to the homily tomorrow….