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&nbsp;She couldn’t remember how she got here, but we all knew very well. She was the reason we were here, the main attraction. Looking around the room, she imagined the wedding that never was. That one party where everybody actually turned up, the party where you know everybody, where you could sit happily at any table. Her brother had a wedding like that, although she never did. But today it was like that. It was her day. Everybody was here for her. Jamesy was reading her favourite poem, clearly confused by an unfamiliar surge of feeling. Her thought was to comfort him and tell him that it was okay, although she would never have said that to him in reality. She would have sat with him, watching his videos, and he would have been comforted like that. Jamesy hated being out of control. When emotions came out of him they usually exploded like lava from a volcano. Now she could see them bubbling inside him like a pot with a heavy lid on. She wanted to help him, but at the same time the desire wasnt real. Colin was sitting in the front row, still athletic and handsome, and some way less tense than when they had been together. He was looking at the floor, trying to make sense of seventeen years of marriage and three children. And the connection they shared in the years after. She smiled. Colins chances of making sense of life were less than average. The experience of even trying was probably new to him, but credit to him, he seemed to be giving it a good old go. That long episode with Colin had been significant hadn’t it? If for nothing else then for the children, because the children made sense, they meant it was all worth it, even that it was meant to be. All together though the relationship with Colin wasn’t good. He needed her to look up to him. And she did until she didn’t and after that they did not have the skill or the will to adjust to the new reality.He was bad to her. Looking back on it after time though it didnt seem to matter, the confusion, the tension, the drinking, forced sex, the punch? It didn’t mean anything. Or did it? Surely it did because if that does not matter then what does? But looking back on it, all that did not seem to matter. And next to Colin was mum. She always described mum as a funny old thing. Not funny ha ha, but not funny weird either. Funny like the myth of Sisyphus, a wry existential smile, rather than a laugh.It was impossible for her to unravel the strands of love and care and neglect and damage and goodness that made up mum, and it was also impossible to for her stop trying, she needed to make sense of it all. She would think about other things, but her mind would be drawn back to mum like a tongue to a broken tooth. Be grateful for what is good don’t worry about the rest. That is what mum would say.She asked mum as she sat there - why didn’t you ever help with the children? I know, its because of what you went through, you shut up shop at the feelings store, you had no more capacity for living through difficult times? I get it. But I needed help with the children, your grandchildren! I needed your help and I did not get it. I can’t forgive you for that. And I love you. That is what she said to mum. Now everybody was sitting thoughtfully as her favourite classical music played and a slideshow of pictures were projected on the wall. Guests smiled subtly as they saw themselves with her in different places at different times. She noticed and smiled too.This was gratifying, it was significant. This room was up in the hills, in the proverbial middle of nowhere. Nobody had been forced to come, but they all had, because they wanted to. They wanted to be with her, so many people. She had lived a good life and people wanted to be there to show how they felt about her. That matters doesnt it? Before she would have cried, but there was no crying now. When you live in the same place, relationships develop over twenty, thirty years and certain people become a big part of your life, Friendship is shared, then not, and then again. There was a betrayal of trust that could not be forgiven, but it was forgiven in time, because these are not the things that really matter. Fourty long relationships in one room. It was too much to process She had been told before her wedding that the day itself would be like that, a blur, too much to digest in real time. But, they said, the details would live with her and she could play them all back later. She expected that this event would be something like that. Except …… The guests had now left the main room and were standing in the foyer. She wanted to be with Jane, and Susuan, and Polly, just to have a bit of time with them, hear what they were saying. It was a good party. People were lingering, nobody was in a hurry to go, even though they all had their coats on. Mum was overcompensating for her social awkwardness by being friendly in a quite unnatural way. Barry’s son was feeling special in a new suit and talking confidently to strangers. Barry was laughing with Colin for the first time in twenty-five years. People stayed in the foyer for a good five minutes, ten, twenty? Then a new group arrived and everybody left gradually but surely with smiles and waves and cries of ‚see you at the house‘. This referred to the house that she had designed and built, a cathedral of light and glass, where she could still feel that she was outside even when she was in.That is where they were going, but she couldn’t go to the house with them. She had to stay here with the body. So she said goodbye for the last time as we left.Thanks for coming everybody, she said. Goodbye!Nobody could hear her or see her. But I said goodbye. Goodbye Sophie! Thanks for everything!

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A Farewell Party

A tribute

She couldn’t remember how she got there, but we all knew very well. She was the reason we were there, the main attraction.

Looking around the room, she imagined the wedding that never was. That one party where everybody actually turned up, the party where you know everybody, where you could sit happily at any table. Her brother had a wedding like that, although she never did. But today it was just like that. It was her day. Everybody was here for her.

Jamesy was reading her favourite poem, clearly confused by an unfamiliar surge of feeling. Her thought was to comfort him and tell him that it was okay, although she would never have said that to him in reality. She would have sat with him, watching his videos, and he would have been comforted by that. 

Jamesy hated being out of control. When emotions came out of him they usually exploded like lava from a volcano. Now she could see them bubbling inside him like a pot with a heavy lid on. She wanted to help him, but at the same time it didn’t seem to matter. 

Colin was sitting in the front row, still athletic and handsome, and some way less tense than when they had been together. He was looking at the floor, trying to make sense of seventeen years of marriage and three children. And the lingering connection of the years after. She smiled. Colin’s chances of making sense of his life were less than average, the experience of trying was probably new to him. But credit where it’s due, he seemed to be giving it a good old go.  

That long episode with Colin had been significant hadn’t it? If for nothing else then for the children, because the children made sense, they meant it was all worth it, even that it was meant to be. All together the relationship with Colin wasn’t good. He needed her to look up to him. And she did until she didn’t and after that they just could not adjust to the new reality.

He was bad to her. Looking back on it after time though it also didn’t seem to matter, the confusion, the tension, the drinking, forced sex, the punch? It didn’t mean anything. Or did it?  Surely it did because if that does not matter then what does? But looking back on it, all that did not seem to matter.

Next to Colin was mum. She always described mum as a funny old thing. Not funny ha ha, but not funny weird either. Funny like the myth of Sisyphus, a wry existential smile, rather than a laugh. 
It was impossible for her to unravel the strands of love and care and neglect and damage and goodness that made up mum, and it was also impossible to for her stop trying. She needed it to make sense, but it wouldn’t, it refused to. She would think about other things, but her mind would be drawn back to mum inevitably like a tongue to a broken tooth. 

Be grateful for what is good don’t worry about the rest. That is what mum would say. 
She asked mum as she sat there - why didn’t you ever help with the children? I know, its because of what you went through, you shut up shop at the feelings store, you had no more capacity for trauma. I get it. But I needed help with the children, your grandchildren! I needed your help and I did not get it. I can’t forgive that or understand it. And I love you. That is what she said to mum. 

Now everybody was sitting thoughtfully as her favourite classical music played and a slideshow of pictures were projected on the wall. Guests smiled subtly as they saw themselves with her in different places at different times. She noticed and smiled too.

This was gratifying, it was significant. This room was up in the hills, in the proverbial middle of nowhere. Nobody had been forced to come, but they all had, because they wanted to. They wanted to be with her, so many people. She had lived a good life and people wanted to be there to show how they felt about her. That matters doesnt it? In life she would have cried, but there was no crying now. 

When you live in the same place, relationships develop over twenty, thirty years and certain people become a big part of your life,  Friendship is shared, then not, and then again. There was that great betrayal of trust that could never be forgiven, but it was forgiven in time, because these are not the things that matter. 

Fourty long relationships in one room. It was too much to process She had been told before her wedding that the day itself would be like that, a blur, too much to digest in real time. But, they said, the details would live with her and she could play them all back later. She expected that this event would be something like that. Except ……

The guests had now left the main room and were standing in the foyer. She wanted to be with Jane, and Susuan, and Polly, just to have a bit of time with them, hear what they were saying. It was a good party. People were lingering, nobody was in a hurry to go, even though they all had their coats on.  Mum was compensating for her social awkwardness by being friendly with everybody in a quite unnatural way. Barry’s son was feeling special in a new suit and talking confidently to strangers. Barry was laughing with Colin for the first time in twenty-five years. People stayed in the foyer for a good five minutes, ten, twenty?

Then a new group arrived and everybody left gradually but surely with smiles and waves and cries of ‚see you at the house‘. This referred to the house that she had designed and built, a cathedral of light and glass, where she could still feel that she was outside in the garden even when she was indoors. 

That is where they were going, but she couldn’t go to the house with them. She had to stay here with her body. So she said goodbye for the last time as everybody left.
Thanks for coming everybody, she said. Goodbye! 
And I waited to last and said goodbye in return. Goodbye Sophie! Thanks for everything!


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A tribute

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A Farewell Party

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