Goodbye Raymond

Funny few weeks really. Since my oldest daughter's distraught phone call telling me of her father's death... till now... how life just keeps on going even when there are moments you would really like to say "Just wait.. I will catch up shortly?" My oldest daughter has my ability to shriek... and I remember her shrieking at me that the person she loved most might die at any time. And he did. He simply did. I guess I was hurt because I always wanted her to love me. But from the tiniest of baby - she always liked him more than me. I think it was because he was so... relaxed always. He didnt worry about bills, or lack of.. material things or anything. He smoked heavily and drank rediculously - but he never seemed to fret about those things either.

I spent the last five plus years furious at Ray and I may have said a few things that right now I wish I could take back. He just never stood up to anyone and never worried about what would happen. Maybe he is the lucky one. The best he could ever do to me... and he did it often enough.. was to drunkenly sway his head side to side and look at me crosseyed..and say "You are a bitch - but I love ya"

He loved everyone really. A million stories and a million good things. And really only the fact that not only did he impregnate me as a teenager and make my struggle a little harder... that he did it again to my daughter (Not incest you sick mind - he allowed her to run away from where she was meant to be and sleep with limp-dick hand whose name thankfully almost always escapes me. My daughter took said incredibly exciting sexy boyfriend... doesn't history repeat itself! to Daddy who said dont worry I wont let mean old auntys or mummy put the little dweeb in jail, whip his ass and make sure no more semen can escape- I probably sound a little crazy... JUST cause.). I think she (Sara) would stand up to me and say she did it to herself. And it isnt begrudging my beautiful daughter or her beautiful son... it is just how much nicer it would of been to not make life that little bit harder.

He always proclaimed the cure for the flu was rum. I am an aggressive drunk on rum. I want to fight everyone and anyone. Give me rum and you have a problem for the night.

Anna (my second daughter) described Raymond's funeral and the goings on to me on the telephone. It was kind of funny - but also I felt a terrible wish I had of gone. Of them lighting his cigarettes and putting them in his burial plot for him, and staggering and crying...of stories and well wishes. Of her watching it and being a little scared and me telling her .. no this is just the way they will get over this and its all fine.

I have many things I want to write - just to think... about his death. Twice - not once twice.. Maybe three times really because when my Canadian girlfiend visited I had long ago left the little kids father and it was Ray who looked after her at Tom's house. Blah details. Ray came to Grafton to help us with our racehorses when the father of the rest of my children was sick. Twice he helped for free. Well ok - so you needed to have beer or some kind of booze. And occasionally he got hungry. Not very often and he was never fussy.

He had a wonderful temper. A temper I have never seen on any other human in my life. It just didnt exist. Sara or my kids would draw on the walls... and he would say "what a lovely picture". I would come home three days later with love bites on my neck and he would say... "I cant work the microwave" (I was a teenager.,...)

The story at Anna at home i will do as a seperate post....