by Sydney Central station I sat down and wept
Or at least I felt like doing so. The last couple of weeks have been very strange. It was my birthday - always a time of introspection in the run up. Then on the day (here) I heard that my cousin had been taken very ill suddenly and, since it was sadness several steps removed, it made the day seem sweeter and more precious in comparision. I woke up the next day to discover that my cousin had died on my birthday (there). The strangeness of time difference acomplishing a further disconnection.
The funeral was yesterday and, of course, I couldn't make it, but I wrote to my very frail Free French Navy veteran uncle some words of attempted comfort. And, in the meantime, there was the news of the beautiful, stately Natasha Richardson's tumble and death on the ski slopes. I had a bit of a Diana moment - it was easier, cleaner and altogether less complicated to be sad about her death than grieve for my cousin. Easier by far to read up on a life well lived and mourn a stranger with a familiar face than mourn an unfamiliar, but at the root of it actually family, cousin distanced by time, place and circumstance.
In between times, I have been awarded my spouse visa (finally) and begun sorting through the remnant of a remnant of our belongings into sell, bin and keep piles. We'll need to put everything in storage so it will pay to travel light. Again.