The build up begins. I keep my Alexandra bike and coffee with Lynette routine...life goes on. When I get home Ted, Lionel's dropper in'er, is in the kitchen. Lionel's death has meant a change of routine for him, he's been coming in to see Lionel most mornings for years, at least five. Ted is a retired farmer, used to coach rugby and plays bowls, so he and Lionel had a lot to talk about. In addition to the weather. Ted's old dog lay down at the door, farming style. Dogs are working animals and know their place. Jill arrives. She's one of the care staff who used to shower Tui, and latterly Lionel. But she did much more, spending more of her own time if more support was needed. When there was an emergency I called her first and we put ourselves on the same page before either of us called Healthcare. And Jill would let me know if she had to inform them of anything so I could strategise. Her aim and mine was to look after Lionel as well as possible within the system. She has a good sense of humour and a wealth of stories. But her life is overlaid by tragedy. One of her three daughters died when she was 18 and another is terminally ill.
Everyone but Kahu arrives at lunchtime. It's noisy but no-one has to watch their p's and q's, no-one will get told off by Lionel. They drive to Cromwell and I instruct Kahu to hitch from Queenstown airport to meet them. A Russian Christian picks him up. Random. At dinner we practise coffin carrying; the dining table is roughly the same dimensions. Dinner is relaxed but there's an undercurrent of anticipation. And you never know what will come out when our whānau gets together. Old tensions. The big day is tomorrow. We'll be able to let the load go when we've laid the body to rest. When the coffin is in the grave. All of Lionel will be gone then. All bar his whispy presence, the one coming from my brain because without him there's a yawning hole in my life.
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