(no subject)

Yesterday was busy. I caught up with my unexpected work and then Mum and i had lunch with a cousin and an aunt. I got to hear about Grannie Annie (not my grandmother, my cousin's - Annie Harris MBE turned up in paper sorting later, so I'm reading the booklet about her today - her name is still spoken with awe and always, always as "Grannie Annie" or "Annie Harris MBE" - there are no other variations). My brother and his wife arrived from Brisbane and joined us for afternoon tea, as did two of my sisters and various offspring. It appears that Chris (yes, you in Sydney, with the sword) is on the same mailing list as my nephew. He admires your writing. It's so rare for this nephew to admire people, too.

We not only discovered some of the rather silly stuff my nephews got up to when they got together for their brother's wedding, we sorted many slides. I also sorted a box of Grandma's papers that afternoon. There's something really creepy about opening a grandmother's diary and finding it mostly empty. It's as if I was seeing an absence I shouldn't've.

The evening brought another family dinner. Mum and I watched Midsomer Murders and then processed more slides. A whole box turned out to be a single ballet performance with 3 slides of a sister in. For some reason my father had felt the need to take photos of every single second.

The most interesting series this time was my uncle's wedding. So very late sixties/early seventies. Most people wore plumage, not clothes. The women wore big floppy hats and long psychedelic dresses ad the men had long hair and their clothes had long lines. They all stood on the synagogue steps, looking as if they'd flown in from a slightly exotic era and would fly out again any moment.

The one picture in that series with myself and my sisters was jarring. We were dressed so very normally and we didn't reflect the era at all. My uncle and his friends were very with it

I think these boxes are never-ending. Especially as we've just realised there are more under the house. I did this in 1989 - and again in 1999 (my first father's and my grandmother's deaths) - right now it feels like the exact some pictures and the exact same boxes of papers. It's a never-ending wheel - every decade we do it all again.

Actually (and more seriously) this time Mum is ready to move on, so boxes are being sorted far more toughly. it's slow and it's hard work, but we're getting somewhere. Right now that 'somewhere' is very messy, but there's less material hidden in odd interstices of house. We will all be comfortable again.

(no subject)

There won't be time for me to post tomorrow. Two graves will be consecrated and two family get-togethers and no doubt there will be drama and melodrama untellable (because it's private unless I am the guilty party, sorry), so I thought I'd report in now.

Mum and I have sorted bookshelves and basically got the big room upstairs (as opposed to the less-big room upstairs) into order. We discovered just how many different German dictionaries and Polish dictionaries and Italian dictionaries a father can have. Also about a dozen other languages. They're now rationalised, and so are the bookshelves. Not finished, but much, much better. I'm sitting in the rationalised room now, and a cool evening breeze is blowing through it, surprised at all the space. Breezes were stymied by the bookshelves and computers and desks until now.

We have cleared a lot of things. The cat now peeks his head cautiously up the top stair and checks for the vaccuum cleaner before committing to visit us. He also insists on me escorting him to the laundry before he'll eat. Toby will settle down after all this is over. It's a pretty stressful time, after all. (I don't think feeding codeine to Mum's gentleman cat would calm him,alas - it doesn't calm me, either, but it makes the pain levels tolerable. i suspect I shall improve when this is all over and life is back to normal.)

Sorting through the odds and ends of three lives (2 fathers and a grandmother) is wonderful in some ways, but it's also very distressing. I'm both glad I'm here and hoping it will be over soon. Sometimes I discover awesome things (like that I had a beautiful moment as a child - it makes me reassess why I dislike my looks and body so intensely) but sometimes it's the stuff of nightmares. And yes, there are nightmares when I sleep. But if I don't face things, I don't deal with them.

My big discovery is an old one. More a rediscovery. I'm very, very fortunate in my mother. She's a rather wonderful lady. I'm going to keep her company while she watches TV, if you'll excuse me.