Lionel Takes His Leave

I'm at school starting the day when Nick rings. She's waiting for the ambulance. She says Lionel is blue, cold and stiff. She's tearful. I drop my bags, go sit on the stairs outside then find an empty classroom. I stay on the line till St Johns arrives. I'm tearful too. I wanted to see him again. I wanted to spend the summer looking after him, taking him for ice creams and out in the car, an easy passenger. But we don't make the choice, our bodies tell our stories. I go back into the English office and drop the news. Silence. I'm upset and my friends rally round. It's a moment when everything stops. 

We organise a week of relief-  4 classes and assessment paperwork. Someone gets Kahu. He takes the news quietly. I tell him what I think needs to happen, he hugs me and leaves. He's not openly emotional, his grandad has given him too many mean serves lately. My trying to explain PTSD and old brains hasn't made as much of an impression as the angry outbursts. I wander round, numb, in shock, letting those who need to know, know, and getting my ducks in a row. Teachers can't just walk out. 

I find the door eventually. There's another job list I must address, the 22 College Ave one. Furthermore, today is busy on site: Rene doing electrics, Gary on plumbing, and the asphalt boys, front of house. I drop in to pick up the Perrin and Rowe toilet seat at Pete's corner. He gives me a tearful hug and a coffee. Hana stains a stick so I can match the ensuite toilet seat. Electric odds and ends at Scoff's makes me late for Finlay on site. He's my opportunity to get the big chandelier, which I haven't seen yet, up. With arms like an octopus it hangs low but high enough. While Finlay vacuum cleans the branches, I head to Lighthouse to pick up a hook for the other chandelier. "The boys" are outside starting the asphalt. They're proud as punch when I ask for a photo. And naturals in front of the camera, loving personal recognition of their work. Job's done and they're packing up when I get back. Efficient as hyenas picking a carcass- mixed metaphor- they hand me asphalt care instructions. Footpath and drive are immaculate.

I drop Kahu off at UC to check out Art School then potter around the house tidying and cleaning. My mind has slowed to near stop. I've switched to neutral, still in the numb comfort zone, means I don't have to confront the event of the day. It's somewhere out wide. 100 not out is a good innings. I'm exhausted. It's over but not over. There's reality to confront and a funeral to organise. Lionel's life to celebrate.