Heavenly Beverley : The Joy of Being Alive

Sunday 9 April 2017

The Joy of Being Alive

The last couple of weeks have been very grim. Lucky's final illness and the circumstances of his death affected us profoundly. We had both seen death before but this did not and could not prepare us for the reality of what happened to Lucky.

So we were left exhausted, emotional and unsettled. Our routine of home, the Gallery and the gentle repetitiveness of our lives vanished into the ether. We spent those ten days going backwards and forwards between the hospital and Beverley, sleeping over some of the nights and not being able to predict the sequence of events. Death was coming to take Lucky - we just didn't know when.

His funeral was last Thursday. We all said our goodbyes. Michael was courageous and humble, quietly shattered but extraordinarily composed. His tribute to his Dad was told as simple snippets of gratitude and love. I could not have been prouder of him.

We did not open the Gallery on Friday. Instead, we decided to be kind to ourselves. We watched the roof being installed on our house. That spectacle was surprisingly engrossing and brought us back to the here and now. Suddenly, a bit of excitement and wonder had returned to our lives.

Then we opened the East End Gallery for the first time since mid-March. A new artist and her paintings to hang. A new catalogue and new numbering to complete. Interesting and delighted guests and a few sales. A chance for Michael to teach a young man some welding skills to repair a component of a quad bike. Lining up a new metal artist for Easter. And networking with one of our visitors to sort out a tedious water issue. All in all, a most pleasing couple of days.

I rediscovered joy over the weekend. The thrill of our new home's construction. Good friends dropping in for a chat, a vino and laughter. Entertaining two children with our artists' table whilst Michael caught up with the accompanying adult and a close friend. Another friend dropping off an interestingly burnt and rusty metal saw stand. Even the mundaneness of catching up on the washing and the insanity of trying to watch an absconding Beagle and a demented or defiant elderly Weimaraner at the same moment has brought me back to uncomplicated pleasure.

And we have had time to catch our breath, sleep comfortably in our own bed, return to the fantastically ordinary and smile. We have read that pinnacle of journalistic achievement - the West Australian Weekend newspaper. We have been to the pub for dinner on Friday. We have watched some quite dreadful and escapist television and listened to our favourite music in the Gallery. We have revelled in sitting together in the Residence and not dreading the ringing of the phones.

This week promises to be full. We are opening the Gallery on Wednesday and continuing through the Easter weekend. Then we will plunge again into the aftermath of Lucky's life and begin the sorting, the distributing and the disposing. At least we have had this time to gather some vim, vigour and vitality. And we have tasted the joy of life again.