What d’ya say, old friend?

Are you okay, old friend?………

           Songwriter: Stephen Sondheim

Hi there, my sweetest friend! 

Yes, I know that I am incredibly slack with my letter writing. And that you always understand and take great delight in what I have to say. So, let me take you on this somewhat sentimental journey…….

I remember our first meeting.  

It was about ten years ago. I was treated to a trip to England by B. It was such a terrific adventure for me and part of that adventure was meeting you.

“Oh, what an incredibly beautiful Georgian house, B!” I exclaimed in delight as we drove into your curving drive. “I am dying to meet the owner.”

And that was when you opened the door and another special person entered my life. You came toward us smiling. Many people have smiles that don’t meet their wary, curious, anxious eyes. You had this wide, open smile and your eyes matched that smile exactly. How could I fail to like you instantly?

We had lunch outside in that magnificent garden of yours. Most gardens I see in England are small. I stood in your garden and didn’t quite manage a Julie Andrews in A Sound of Music twirl. Mine was more of an unintended, lop sided Carol Burnett kinky twist. 

“This garden is gloriously big and beautiful,” I exalted, as I collapsed mid twist on the green carpet of grass laughing. We sat outside in the sunshine which is unusual for England! You served a glorious BBQ (not a Braai!) lunch with jacket potatoes and salad and oh, how we talked.

We drove home that day and I knew I had made a friend for life.

On a subsequent occasion, B had unfortunately booked me a holiday in England that coincided with Wroxham Week. Being a sailor yourself, you know what Wroxham Week is all about. It is the yachting regatta deluxe in Norfolk. Unfortunately, I am definitely not a sailor, so while B and John stayed on a boat, I moved in with you. We had such fun together, staying up late at night, drinking wine in the kitchen, exchanging stories and learning more about one another.

One afternoon, you took me to see your husband’s grave. It was in such a beautiful spot. It was on the outskirts of the village. The church was outlined by rolling farmlands.

“One day, will you lie next to him?” I asked. You looked at me and nodded. “Come on,” you laughed, “we’ll make an English woman out of you. Time for another cuppa tea!”

On another trip to England, it was my 50th birthday. How well I remember the party you gave me. It was small, but everyone there was special. You made six wonderful muffins with the letters of my name: G – A – Y – N – O – R glowing in pink icing. You carried them towards me singing loudly. I looked at your radiant, beaming face and I thought I would explode with happiness. 

That was the thing about you. You gave off a scent of joy!

On the 17th February, I received the news that you had gone. You had left this world and moved on to a better place. I felt numb, the breath knocked out of me. No more YOU in England!

I recently stumbled across this piece. It speaks of water, sailing and the sea, all things that you loved. It seemed so appropriate for those of us you have left behind, grieving your loss.

In the beginning, the waves are 100 feet tall and crash over you without mercy. They come 10 seconds apart and don’t even give you time to catch your breath. All you can do is hang on and float. After a while, maybe weeks, maybe months, you’ll find the waves are still 100 feet tall, but they come further apart. When they come, they still crash all over you and wipe you out. But in between, you can breathe, you can function. You never know what’s going to trigger the grief. It might be a song, a picture, a street intersection, the smell of a cup of coffee. It can be just about anything…and the wave comes crashing. But in between waves, there is life.

Somewhere down the line, and it’s different for everybody, you find that the waves are only 80 feet tall. Or 50 feet tall. And while they still come, they come further apart. You can see them coming. An anniversary, a birthday, or Christmas. You can see it coming, for the most part, and prepare yourself. And when it washes over you, you know that somehow you will, again, come out the other side. Soaking wet, sputtering, still hanging on to some tiny piece of the wreckage, but you’ll come out.

The waves never stop coming, and somehow you don’t really want them to. But you learn that you’ll survive them. And other waves will come. And you’ll survive them too. If you’re lucky, you’ll have lots of scars from lots of loves. And lots of shipwrecks.

The circle of life is so hard….

I smile thinking of you now with your husband. And that sea will continue to ebb and flow in my life. I love you, sweetest friend. Until we meet again…….

As always, with a smile I kiss your beautiful eyes 

Gaynor 

The post Letter to a friend! appeared first on 'ear 'ear! by Gaynor Young.

As you all probably know, November/Movember is responsible for the sprouting of millions of moustaches around the world. With their Mo’s, men heighten awareness about prostate and testicular cancer as well as raising vital funds for further research into these diseases. I applaud this idea. Yes, certainly. But it is hellish for the deaf world! Why? Well, for deaf people lip reading naturally plays a vital part in our everyday communication. The Arab woman covering her face, only allowing her eyes to show makes lip reading impossible. In the same way, chaos is caused to the deaf world by the sudden growth of facial hair on men. The moustache covers the upper lip.  All of a sudden lip reading is made intensely difficult. Men are difficult to read as it is! Just about impossible with the caterpillar lounging quite comfortably on their upper lips!

Let me tell you about my moustache experience!

I was doing one of my favourite things, ambling around Woolworths, when suddenly I felt this tap on my shoulder. I turned to see the face of a man with a very large moustache. It was so large that I couldn’t see his lips but his eyes were dancing with life.

“Gaynor Young?” he asked.

I nodded and he said: “I saw….”

I interrupted him with a laugh.”I’m sorry but while your moustache is rather magnificent, it covers your lips. I am deaf and I need to lip read. Would you mind if I did this?” I placed my hand under his chin. “Now I can feel what you’re saying.”

“I watched you doing that to Derek Watts on Carte Blanche. (For those that don’t know, Derek Watts is the host for a documentary investigative program in SA called Carte Blanche) It’s amazing! I tried it and I can’t feel what a person’s saying. How do you do it?”

“My hearing and 60% of my eyesight were killed off. As a result my other senses rallied round! My sense of touch is now amazing.” I wriggled my fingers provocatively before him laughing.

He returned my laughter. “I’m sorry, I should have introduced myself. I’m Matthew Taylor.

Everyone calls me Matt.”  We chatted together for a while and them I looked at my watch. “I must shoot,” I said, ” my rehearsal starts at ten.”

“Hey, are you acting again?”

“No, not acting. Those days are over but I am performing in my one woman show Gaynor Rising. It opens in a month at the Kwasuka Theatre. Please come?”

“Count me in. I’ll be there.”

Four weeks later I was performing in my show when I saw a familiar moustache dancing happily at one of my jokes. Matt had come! Afterwards, I met him in the bar. He had loved my show! He then bought my book and took down my cell phone number. He finished My Plunge to Fame the next day and phoned to say how much he had enjoyed it.  I invited him to lunch.

The doorbell rang. I gave a last check of my beautifully laid table and went to answer it. I opened the door to be met by this massive bunch of twenty-five yellow roses. “Ohhh,” I breathed. He moved the bunch and my world stood still. Matt’s beautiful mouth was grinning at me. His lips were deliciously gorgeous! The moustache had gone. “I thought it would make communicating easier,” he said.

Well, yes, I thought, I am very happy to ‘communicate’ with that mouth! How could I fail to be drawn in Matt’s direction? An un-mustached man with dancing eyes who gives you twenty-five yellow roses at lunch! That day a wonderful relationship began.

I have kept a letter he wrote to me……

     God was looking down at the people on earth, admiring his handiwork, ‘I’ve created a hardy yet loving people’ said he. ‘Sure there are bad elements, but that serves to fortify the human soul as well as providing balance. Without pitfalls there cannot be triumphs.’

    The Devil appeared and said, ‘sorry lot aren’t they! You know you were just lucky when I tested Job. I bet you if I tested another of your servants I could bring them to their knees. Send me whoever you wish and I’ll turn them to the dark side’.

    So God went to his angels and asked for a volunteer to silence the prince of darkness. All the angels quivered and were afraid for this was going to be a test of the limits of patience, courage and of love. One angel, God’s favourite, stepped forward and said ‘father, I’ll do it’. God said ‘you know that you will have to endure incredible suffering for a long time’. The angel replied, ‘it is the least I can do’.

    So God made his preparations. He knew that without the support of a loving family we are nothing. So the first task was to provide a loving home in the form of an earthly mother and father. To these two, God gave endless patience and love. He also gave them hearts that were capable of loving to the ends of the earth and to carry an enormous amount of heartache.

    And so the stage was set. God sent down his favourite angel and said, ‘my child you are to endure terrible suffering, but I will compensate you’. With that, the angel set about the business of living a life on earth.

    The years went past until the Devil thought, ‘the time is right, look how happy that angel is. It is time to make life a misery’.

    And so a tragic accident took place. The next few years were filled with sorrow, pain, frustration and a deep sense of loss, for nothing would ever be the same again. The angel’s family rallied around and provided the support that God knew was needed.

    The angel adapted to a new way of life, unable to continue with the old one.

    The people all saw the angel’s pain, spirit, fortitude and big heart.

    Because of the suffering endured by this angel, many people were fortified knowing they had less to overcome.

    Because of the tremendous spirit shown by this angel, many people were heartened, knowing that we can endure more if we have to.

    Because this angel had no guile, was humble and still loved God, the Devil was vanquished in many hearts and turned away in defeat to find new prey.

    God compensated this angel with friends who loved her only as true friends can.

    Then I met you and my life was filled with song and my heart with love for Gods favourite angel.

    I am proud to call you my friend.

    Love Matt

The post To Grow or Not to Grow…..? appeared first on 'ear 'ear! by Gaynor Young.