when you asked me if I wanted to share a house with you? in Claremont, on ‘this’ side of the railroad tracks. I said yes and then I had to deal with my conservative catholic parents who could not understand that I was not ‘living’ with you, but only sharing a house. little I had known that you had already asked your best friend Tom if he wished to share the house with you. who would have guessed that later I would marry Tom and you would walk me down the aisle in my South African wedding
when on the odd Friday you will ask me if I wanted to go and spend the weekend in Noordhoek? with your family. I will sleep in the caravan in the garden. I was really lucky because that way I got to meet Richard, Judy, Hannah and Ruth. I would have one of those wholesome meals prepared by Judy which, to my surprise, normally included flowers in the salad. It was the closest to ‘home away from home’
when you came home with your hair a bit more frazzled than usual and a sombre look? your VW beetle had been stolen. right from Rhodes Mem. and it didn’t have much petrol. I tried to confort you. somehow. I praised the South African police and said that by tomorrow we will have your beetle at home. not to worry. I also told you the story about my grandfather who also reported his car as stolen to later remember he had parked it in a different spot. half way through this story, you got up and left. my words still flowing. you came back two hours later with your big wide smile and told me you had parked it in the Engineering building, and there it was when you went to fetch it
my puzzled look every time you said ‘ag shame’? before coming to South Africa, all my English was American in vocabulary, truly Spanish in pronunciation. I could not understand why we all had to feel ashamed of something. you also taught me more South African words and I was able to feel more at home. you were home. for 20 months
spaghetti bolognaise for dinner? that is all you could prepare back then. not that I was much better. but it was always good and hearty. with bread, parmesan cheese and a glass of wine. red for you, white for me. and a wonderful conversation
when with a sort of an apologetic smile you will inform me that we had been invited to tea with Mr and Mrs Lalloo, landlords and next-door neighbours. Mrs Lalloo would wear that beautiful orange sari and Mr Lalloo would wear his best pair of pants. during tea, Mrs Lalloo would always bring out the time she met Richard and Judy, and you as a baby as their tenants in the same house we now shared. she would always finish with ‘handsome boy, Doug’. to which you would always look at me with the afternoon sun reflecting in your beautiful green eyes and a beaming smile. and I will always reply ‘still a handsome boy’
[photo: Camps Bay, 2008]
[photo: Camps Bay, 2008]
you were a handsome boy in the outside – perhaps that was the concern my parents had about me ‘living’ with you - and truly gorgeous in the inside. you were extremely bright, our conversations always took interesting twists from which I would always learn a lot. you were very kind, always ready to help others. a gentleman. to Richard’s pride. you were funny, your laugh was contagious and we could end in tears of joy many times. we were happy. you were a happy chap altogether, no concerns beyond today. you really lived today to your best. you were a gifted artist. your bird drawings, the portrait of your grandfather, the amazing pieces you published in many magazines. your talent was always overflowing one way or another
I am sorry I keep babbling all this, but I hope you can start to fathom how much I will miss you. hearing your ‘Howzit guys’ every time we will go back to Cape Town, having you over for dinner or to go to Kirstenbosch with a picnic, or just sitting in Muizenberg admiring the sunset while having a beer, or two. or just knowing that you are there, on the other side of the world and wishing we could find a dream job in Galapagos so you could come to live with us again.
I love you, and I love these memories, plus thousands more that are stored in my heart. forever. your leaving leaves a big hole in my heart, but I know that all those memories will cheer me up, because having met you, is one of the greatest things that ever happened to me
