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| Ammie with daughter Georgie, me with Adam, Churchaven |
It's a day of tears. For both of my coachees, it was bring on the tissues. Fortunately my office is well prepared, as I never know when the moment will come, and I like people to know tears are okay.
For me, tears were close after a memorial for a colleague's father, which took place in the crematorium down Voortrekker road, in Maitland. It's a long straight road, that connects the northern suburbs with the city, and along one side for miles stretches Cape Town's graveyards. Gate One, Gate Two, on and on , next to a lowish wall of dressed stone,which I find a rather beautiful, humanizing detail, considering what lies on the other side. The memorial was for a social intellectual, part-time philosopher and scientist who expressed hope that there would be an afterlife. Maybe that was a tongue in cheek thought. I never met him, but I see some him in my colleague.
The real reason why the trip down Voortreker road is poignant is that the last time I drove there was for my sister Ammie's cremation, almost eight years ago. It still rocks my gut. In that space, which seemed far warmer and furnished today than eight years ago, her immediate family gathered to say goodbye, read a poem, and then, numbly, take the long drive on Voortrekker road back into town, to eat lunch together. All of us would rather have been anywhere else.
Neighbourhood Walk.
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