My brother-in-law died last night. I’m not too sure how I feel to be honest. I mean, I don’t want anyone to die; I’m not sadistic or cruel like that. This is coming from the guy who cried and cried and cried when Bambi’s mother died. So I’m not an asshole or anything.
Noel’s mother Molly passed away in 2014. Throughout my time in New Zealand up until then, Noel and I (as well as Don, Marg, Jacqui, and other friends of both ours and Molly’s) took turns looking after her. We lived pretty close, so that wasn’t an issue really. But Anne and Mel (Noel’s sister and brother-in-law) didn’t make it in time to be with Molly in her final moments, and, to be honest, we’d told other family she wasn’t in a good state; they should’ve remembered Molly as who she was when she was aware, sharp and witty. Not an unconscious woman struggling for each breath.
After Molly’s funeral, Anne and Mel thanked us for looking after her and being with her in her final moments. They said they’d be in touch.
And then we didn’t hear from them for 9 years.
Maybe I’m being overdramatic. Or am I?
Noel’s sister-in-law called a few weeks ago to say Mel was very unwell. Cancer (that bastard of a disease). Noel was upset but unsure of what to do.
Counselling has done me wonders in that regard. There are two options, really, I told him. One, they chose not to be in contact with us, for whatever reason, and maybe he should respect that. They walked out of our lives, not the other way around. Two, he might feel awful if he doesn’t have at least one meeting with them to touch base and maybe resolve things. If he chose the former, he might have to live with things left unsaid, and only he would know how he might feel about that. Whatever he chose, I said, I’d support him.
He texted his sister not too long after. His nephew texted back. Mel had terminal cancer. The doctors had given him a year, maybe less. Noel got in touch with his sister, now living only a moderate drive away, and set up a time and day to go see them. It was on his day off, so I couldn’t come along as I was at work. I’ll be honest and say I’m not sure I wanted to go.
They had a great time together. Noel came back saying we should go visit them again, because they asked after me. Work was busy, I had a mountain of coursework due in the second week of June, my anxiety was at Def Con 4, and I wasn’t sure how to feel. I used to feel hurt when someone walked out of my life for whatever reason. Now? Now I don’t feel so much at all. I don’t always have the energy to devote to those sorts of things. I have to pick and choose on what I decide to spend my emotional power on.
I said to Noel that maybe we could go see them the weekend after my final assessments were due. Or even the afternoon after our students’ graduation. On that weekend in mid-June. It was honestly all I could offer, especially after so much anxiety and stress around, well, everything, that I was starting to have depersonalisation episodes again.
Last night, Noel brought it up again; we should go visit this long weekend. Again, I countered I had a lot of work still to do on my assessments. He replied he didn’t think Mel had long to live.
Mel died a few hours later.
When we were all younger, Mel and Anne owned a restaurant called The Golden Fleece in Lake Tekapo. That was before the Powers That Be mowed down all the trees in favour of vast post-modern subdivisions, plonked hot pools in the old campground ice-skating rink, and built a gazillion shops and restaurants along the lakefront. It’s a beautiful, man-made lake, fed by glaciers, with that powder blue look from the rock flour in the icy water. Mountains loomed all around, and Mount John stood proud near the town. It’s a UNESCO world heritage site due to the amazing views of the Milky Way in the night sky. Noel had a camper van in the campground down there, so we’d travel the three hour drive south on breaks to get away from Christchurch. More often than not, we ended up helping in the restaurant. It was an experience.
I remember we’d shut up shop, sometimes early evening, sometimes late at night, and sit around, usually having a meal and a few drinks. Mel was always so worried about how pristine his monstrosity of a wooden bar was. I’d pour Pepsi from the tap, but he’d always be concerned about me spilling a drop. What he hadn’t realised was I knew how paranoid he was about everything being spotless, so I’d clean up after myself if there was a spill. His fastidiousness and his Mother-Hen-ing used to piss me off. Looking back, I think half the time he was joking. I guess I’ll never get the chance to ask him now.
One night — I’m not sure how this all transpired — we’d worked late-ish and the people who owned the Chinese restaurant a few doors down invited us all over for dinner and drinks. Here we were, a ragtag bunch of people: Anne and Mel (Mrs and Mr Bucket from Keeping Up Appearances); some of the locals who worked in their restaurant; a bunch of Chinese people who worked at the restaurant; their swanky boss; and Noel and me, the token queers from the big smoke.
We ate a scrumptious banquet of authentic Chinese food, drank sake, and had a wonderful time. It was an amazing night. I don’t even remember what we were talking about, but we laughed and laughed and laughed.
Mel had a wonderful laugh. He’d be laughing so hard his eyes would be watering and he’d struggle to catch his breath to finish what he was saying.
That’s the way I want to remember him. Happy and laughing. Him at his most radiant. Isn’t that all we can wish for? Someone to remember us as our most beautiful and authentic self.
So I don’t know how I feel. Not right now. There’s been a lot to process this week. A lot of change. And I don’t deal with change as well as I used to deal with it.
Maybe we need to forgive if our hearts and minds allow it.
What I know is life is short. We should live, love, be in the moment, and laugh. We should laugh so hard we cry and enjoy each second of our merriment.
Just like Mel did.
Beam Me Up, Scotty 
You must be logged in to post a comment.