the end of an era
And so too, with the passing of Reg Strauss, we have seen the end of an era. Reg died on Tuesday afternoon, 19th July 2016. He is fondly remembered by all those he leaves behind.
Perhaps, it is that little frown he gets, when he is concentrating on the computer
Or that boyish grin that stretches across his face
Naughty…
Silently missioning in his room, he’s busy unscrewing bottles and measuring fluids
An alchemist of the night
Sometimes
No, actually often
He marches
Annoyed
Staring into the screen of his phone as if it holds some hidden clue
I sit on his couch
Studying him
Getting high on this charm that seems to ooze
Out of him
Oh god! I hope I am not getting Sharon, Chunky, Shirley, Claire disease!
It seems to be very infectious
Or at least he is…
The moody 5 year old who is at times quite devious, slipping
Past me on the stairs, trying to be invisible
Sweetly, he asks me if I can use another computer
Playing with my ponytail as he passes me in the passage
He is quite scary when he is mad
I have to try very hard not to want to fix it
There is something vulnerable about this little tough guy
That makes me want to rush out and save him
(As if I could!)
I laugh at the idea of him in pyjamas
I worry if he eats
My heart feels sore when I hear he is saving money for the dentist
He knows much by way of pain
Later, recounting the story of David, I cry for the first time
He makes sharing my sore bits easy
Suddenly excited, he flaps his arms
His camp mannerisms seem so incongruous with the bad boy image he projects
I come to realise this “Marky Mark” wears his heart on his sleeve
Chunky doesn’t think he will stay here long
A story I am beginning to know so well
I haven’t had enough time with him
In retrospect, no one actually has
That day we spent together walking in the park
All talked out after hours of catch-up
Still dressed as though we had just left the club
Our walk
The day
Are etched so clearly in my mind
I get a warm fuzzy feeling when I think about it
It’s all I have left of him now…
Warm fuzz and photographs
I spend the night waiting for him to walk in the door
But he doesn’t
He won’t
Never again
The reality of this hangs over all of us
I will be honest; it is terrible here without him
A massive hole
An empty space
I have no idea how they will fill it
Or for how long they will hold it together
Feels like trouble coming — a big gust of change blowing through the house
the good the true and the beautiful 