It isn’t a train smash
I don’t usually like to read posts about loved ones who are dead. I guess this post and my feelings on it has changed my perspective. All those loved ones departed and those left behind deserve to honour their loved ones. A big life lesson learned. It is the 9 th January and that means it is your birthday. I still miss that laugh of yours. Stupid Cancer. Do you know it has been over 10 years since you died and they still don’t have a cure for Cancer?
I know you were the type of man that would have probably healed yourself but you didn’t have time. It was too late. It had spread throughout your body too much. Reflecting back, I know you knew you had it. You were in denial even when you were diagnosed twice. Three times. We moved countries to get you the best treatment. We were all in denial. You were indestructible even staring death in the face. You brushed off cancer like an irritating wasp.
Some people I know hated you for your business ethics but damn you were a smashing businessman and you loved your family- wholeheartedly. You didn’t want in -house fighting and took the blame for a lot of our mistakes. You wanted peace.
I know you were far from perfect. I mean a lot of your dealings were under handed but no more underhanded that a corrupt police officer or a government worker. Yes, you took but you gave too.
You were a millionaire twice over in your life. You were one of the first people to fly all over the world in the now defunct Concorde. Remember that time when I was in Disney world? It was Disney worlds 50 th anniversary. It was my 5 th birthday present.
I was being a rotten spoilt child and refused to get in the bath. You were less than a few hours away from catching the Concorde to get to a meeting. Business suit on and briefcase in the other hand. You thought you could reason with me.
You managed to be a success in that department with most people. You sat on the edge of the bath, pragmatical and cajoling me. I was so not getting in that bath – Then you slipped and fell into the bath. You were not angry but we both laughed. We were in hysterics.
You embraced every religion you could think off. You could speak over 5 languages. You would walk into a room and all eyes were on you. Your charisma and those eyes -corn blue -mesmerised people. You were a descendant of Rasputin. You had to be! The business deals were usually signed on the dotted line and you had only just sat down to discuss business.
You got locked away in Vienna for a few years. Someone had to be the fall guy. Your crime was no worse than that of another person high up in government and politics did. you did skin the top of the profits but the rest went to the poor. I saw it with my own eyes.
You loved Gran with all your heart. She was not an easy woman. Stunning and charming, yes. But things happen in life and you were far away. Gran didn’t want to be in U.SA at that point in her life, and I guess your needs got the better than you. Like it does for millions of people over the world. Even now as I type someone is betraying another. Who am I to judge?
You were still doing business after chemotherapy. That shit wiped you out. We ended up in a villa in the South of France because of your business acumen. You were riddled with Cancer. Could hardly move.
You never touched drugs. Never sold them or dealt in arms. The dodgy business you did was what most western governments do. You knew the politics. you knew the game. You only drank vodka when you knew your days were numbered.
You came from Paris to South Africa with Gran – and extended your family from Madagascar to Zimbabwe and then settled in South Africa.
You both made a huge family and gave them so much. Grandchildren included. You loved the innocence of youth. You wanted children to stay children for as long as possible. You wanted to keep them safe from the harshness of our world. I remember how I used to boast to my friends you were a doctor. Well, you did say you were. Years later, you made me laugh so much when you pulled out your certificate and it was signed by some top official in post-apartheid by a man called Buthalezi. You were indeed a doctor.
A doctor in economics. True, you didn’t need to go to college to learn that. It still makes me smile.
Your parents came from Russia fleeing the revolution 0f 1918 to Paris. You grew up in the slums of Paris. Your brother Vladimir was ill from a young age and your sister Helene was as frivolous and sensual. She know how to have a good time.
We used to talk so much about why I wanted to be so thin. He wanted to know why I was compelled to use drugs. It was like a cure he couldn’t find. Rehab after rehab. No cure. He used to take me outside onto the balcony. The sea was so close you could almost feel it. You could smell the saltiness in the air. You tried to teach me mindfulness. You were an eccentric, well ahead of your time. Everyone is on about mindfulness these days.
Today I feel ashamed that I made you take me to my drug dealer in a Rolls Royce, I might add.. to score. I think the drug dealers were disgusted in me. A white girl, rich and who had no visible problems or deformities to see, buying a drug on a par with Heroin.
I have got better. I have. I’m not 100% but I wish you could see me now. I know for a fact we would still be living in Miami or France. You loved with a generous heart. There was always laughter in the family. I don’t know how you would have handled seeing Gran the way she is. In a care home – in the last stages of dementia. Maybe it is a good thing you never got to see her like she is now. It would have crushed you, not being able to make her better. It would have driven you mad. I know it.
You were a legend
And in my eyes and my heart you still are.
I hope you are still making deals with your God -whoever that may be and where ever that may be.
I love you .
Posted on 2016-01-09, in MY WORLD and tagged Bereavement, Cancer, Emotions, Family matters, Life, Living with Mental illness, Love, MY WORLD, Relationships, When I was young, Write to create. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.