8 months ago
A daunting day today aided by friendship, flowers, carpentry, a little chocolate and some quietude. Our ‘Manniversary’ it says in my calendar.
At the turn of the century, Dane Crawford caught a train from Brisbane to Sydney to “stay at mine for a bit” but in actuality for Dane and me to become ‘life partners’, a status I am finding he retains posthumously via the reservoir of love he left in store.
We were introduced by Lucy Wirth in the January, igniting our summer fling on a bed made of milk crates. I’m dining with Lucy tonight. (We were doing Troy’s House at the Old Fitz back then). Dane’s train journey was nineteen years ago today. I recall the progress reports he phoned into the call centre where I worked. I didn’t own a mobile yet. He arrived at interval of the show with his luggage. Did we have an inkling it would sustain so long? We never suspected it’d be cut tragically short. We also approach that other anniversary this week: twelve months since our Dane was wrenched away.
Today I visited the building site for the house he helped create for us, empty of wall linings and fixtures still; somehow replete with him. (Tonight Lucy revealed that even in the beer terrace of the Old Fitz Dane spoke about saving for a home deposit with me. She kept it quiet in case I baulked at the commitment of this impatient nineteen year old.)
Dane kept that train ticket. I believe it is in storage with all our stuff, packed by us both in the weeks before his death, a treasure trove of tools for living I get to open before long. Those of you who volunteered to be a removalist crew, you are on notice. Our builder, the excellent Guy Surch, is progressing fast with the reconstruction work. As are you, my friends, so thanks.