I recently received another email from Alistair, this time it came with an attachment in the form of Claudia’s funeral and wake; Ali’s previous mail was to announce her demise.
For weeks I stumble from the Death of Claudia to the recent passing of my father-in-law Roger and that of my mother-in Law Brenda earlier this year. Lately I have been in the presence of Death and have been driven to contemplate my own unavoidable mortality through the expiry of those that I love.
Claudia Eris was special to me, a mentor and a friend, someone who chose to actively don the avatar of Discordia throughout most of her life. She succeeded in headlining as the Chaos Goddess in other people’s psyche with unparalleled magnificence and style. She was a pro who shone like a true star and had the type of outlandish magic that was capable of rendering the madness of life tolerable and the insanity of the surrounding world almost bearable. Her passing has left a small indelible scar on my heart which I incessantly pick at, not forgiving myself for letting her last message to me go unanswered all those years ago.
I was introduced to Brenda 5 years ago, who was already in the initial stages of pulmonary dementia, courting death much earlier than any of us had realized. Earlier this year however she developed breathing difficulties and began to forget the simplest of matters or tasks. One day she woke in a muddled state and was taken to Eastbourne District where on the 23rdof February she died alone in a hospital under siege of a Global Pandemic. Brenda was the most selfless, loving, caring and uncomplicated person I had ever met. I am so proud to have called her my mother-in-law and not a day goes by that I do not think about her. I wish I could have held her hand one more time.
Roger was already very disabled by the time I met him. Two successive strokes had reduced him to using his walker permanently 18 years ago. Eventually I witnessed Roger become weaker and weaker as prostate cancer steadily claimed him. Finally he became nothing more than a bag of skin and bones on a hospice bed, the morphine driver keeping him in a perpetual state of twilight, between death and sleep, for weeks. Yesterday on the 23rd of December he too died alone, try as we all did to take shifts by his side. One of the last songs we played for him was Frank Sinatra’s ‘I Did It My Way’. His large bushy eyebrow twitched one final time as if to so ‘Yes I did do it my way didn’t I?’.
These people, my Family and my Friends, have affected me in equal measures. In Life they shared with me the most precious thing we all have, Time. We spent treasured moments of humbling, vulnerable humanity forging trinkets of memories; loving gestures of tea and biscuits, hugs and smiles, spinning fleeting chit chat whose essence is now lost in the fog of time.
Their Death also heralds my own imminent expiry and impels me to examine life and answer to myself the sum of all my actions. The autopsy of my deeds is a difficult task but the process leaves me happy to be here. I have made some puerile mistakes and I have made some good choices but I am glad to be alive and able to retrospect and remember.
Recently I found myself standing in the kitchen thinking of Claudia, thinking of the last time I spoke to her at Festival 23, recalling how the previous summer I had travelled with her to Stonehenge for 2015 Solstice. At the time I had made a flimsy attempt at a blog about our adventure but never followed up, eventually misplacing my notes after my old MacBook crashed.
Now, standing in the dark kitchen during a moment of stirring inebriation I felt Claudia’s absent presence so intense and overwhelming that it led me to declare if Claudia wanted to prove to me there is something beyond the Veil this would be her opportunity. I marched up to my notebook and without much thought I opened the first document I came across in a defunct iCloud account and up popped the lost blog entry recalling the Solstice with Claudia.
Reading it is embarrassing, an amateur attempt at documenting something wonderous and special, a flailing endeavor at writing, but the essence is indubitably there. Firstly, there is the ultimatum of what was just agreed to in the kitchen; prove to me you are there, somehow, somewhere. Then there is the fact that this lost blog was a private encounter between Claudia and I, no one else knew of its existence.
Perhaps all this is chance or coinci-dance, as my friend Steve would quip. But I know Claudia and I know she would say, ‘Just accept what is, do not question and do not doubt, it just is, Kali.’
June 2015
Mesmerized I watch as green and silver sheaths of wheat and barley softly rock back and forth, a verdant swaying sea as the wind races gently across the hills and vales of Wiltshire. Eris sits next to me with a fawn felt hat drawn down around her wild gold and silver hair, partially covering eyes that reflect the endless beauty of the countryside speeding by on our way to Stonehenge. Smiling she reaches into her bag and passes me a small bottle filled with mushroom tea.
We make small talk; I am trying ever so hard to impress her but it’s nothing she hasn’t seen or heard before. Instead, she grins and reaches behind her neck.
“I want you to have this. Harvey and I whittled it, it’s just a small piece of wood we gave no particular shape to, it just is”, she explains as she removes it and places it over my head and around my own neck. The carving is hung with a piece of soft brown leather, familiar, comfortable, original like Claude. It settles neatly on my skin and fills me with warmth and love.
We arrive at the visitors centre and proceed to walk amongst the thousands of other pilgrims that are also making their way to the Stones. A river of bodies stretches for what seems like miles.
We travel along green beside fields of poppies and lilac blossoms watching Wiltshire gently undulate in the twilight. Claudes laughs and encourages me to take my shoes off then prompts me towards the soft grass and country flowers.
From afar we can hear drumming coming from the Stones and as the Sun begins to set we arrive just in time to Perch near a Sarson. With Claudia by my side I watch in silent wonder as the Sun dives beyond the hills. Long shadows are cast over the thousands that have come together to celebrate.
Claudia asks me to walk her around the Stones a couple of times and it is evident there are many people there that know her. An endless stream of fans come to say hello until finally she tires. We end up nestled on two fallen Bluestones near the entrance of Circle. Stretching back completely I wrap my shawl around my shoulders to my chin and look up at the constellations with a smile. With my free hand I rumble through a couple of pockets and fish out a small lighter and a silver pipe conveniently filled with hashish. I manage to light it under my wrap with little effort. Inhaling deeply I regard the heavens as I recline back on one of the oldest Temples in the world.
We watch as the midsummer zodiac makes its precession above our heads, this could be one of the most magical nights of my life.
As the solstice draws to its peak many revelers settle down to rest; imagine the biggest sleepover in the world.
During the brief night we visit friends here and there, people exchange hellos and hugs. This goes on all night until the sky in the East begins to glow a soft honey gold. Above, the sky is still a deep indigo that turns to magenta, then the velvet of the night sky eventually ripples into a deep blue. Small passing clouds are set alight as they begin to glow an electric pink.
The Sun begins to crest, lighting the surrounding vales and countryside, revealing a hidden landscape before our very eyes. Everything seems to burst with effervescent life as Shamesh majestically makes His way over the distant hills.
I look around to find Claudia and Susanna standing close behind. They say hello then Claudia suggests we depart in order to avoid the exiting masses. I take one final look around and glean Puck resting against a Stone, mandolin at hand, slowly strumming a medieval tune.
‘Bye Bye Stonehenge’ I whisper to no one in particular.
